The truth shall out
by AnkhianMorePork
Summary: Merlin reveal fanfic. No slash. Gwaine's POV. Merlin finally reveals his nature to Arthur. The king doesn't take it well and exiles him from Camelot. But Morgana and the Sidhe are nearing Camelot and Merlin is the only one who can stop them.
1. An Eventful Hunting Trip

**A/N:**** I apologise for the inevitable spelling mistakes in here, but I somehow managed to turn off the spell-check and I can't figure out how to turn it back on.**

Can't a knight have some time to relax every now and then? There I was, enjoying a pint or three in the inn, when Elyan came in and dragged me out. There were reports of a violent group of bandits, he said. The king had decided to go hunting them.

Ever since Arthur had married Gwen, he had been forced to accept the rules and limitations of his rank; there was ceremony after ceremony, meeting after meeting… Arthur probably hadn't seen the light of day for weeks. But it didn't show. He kept us knights on our toes.

We joined the usual gang in the courtyard. I was still lamenting my abandoned beer, sitting alone on the counter, when I noticed Merlin laden with at least seven heavy bags and a cage, hurrying after Arthur. To be honest, I shouldn't really be complaining. I had never seen Merlin with his guard down, relaxing. And to think that I'd known him for two years and seen him every single day, that was saying something.

"We ride immediately," said the king. Rather unnecessarily, I might add, seeing as the horses were saddled and waiting directly in front of his face. "The bandits are said to be camping in the Abingdon forest."

He looked happier than normal. Arthur was a man of action; being a king didn't sit well with him. Too bad, really, since he had known that he would someday reign the kingdom since the moment he was born. You would have thought he'd have grown himself into a lazy slob who actually enjoyed sitting indoors. At least he had improved since he had met Merlin, or so Leon told me.

I considered the boy. Over the past few months he had been looking more and more confident. He had lost his constant woebegone appearance and seemed more certain of himself. Sometimes, when he was having one of his odd 'wise moments', he seemed to radiate a sort of power, that transmitted itself into Arthur and helped him in ways I couldn't understand.

Merlin set the bags down with a sigh. We had recently started bringing along homing pigeons, in case we needed to send an urgent message. So far, they were proving very useful. And heavy. Invariably, the task of carrying them fell to Merlin. The boys had dispersed and had started packing their horses. Arthur turned to his servant.  
"You having a rest? Feeling better now?"  
Merlin winced at the heavy sarcasm. He had been looking paler recently. At the councils, he never said anything, never looking up from the ground as they discussed the forces growing around the kingdom. An outsider might be suspicious of him; he always looked guilty. But anyone who knew Merlin, got him to open up, knew that the very notion was ridiculous. Merlin wasn't capable of hurting a fly. And no one could miss his unfailing, undying loyalty to Arthur.

"No, sire."  
"Well pick that up, then."  
The servant hoisted the bags over his shoulder and started unloading them into the horses' saddlebags. That was another thing about Merlin. He never complained. To anyone. Except Gaius.

The ride was long and boring. Why couldn't Arthur just send his guards out? He was a king, he could easily send people to their deaths, and nobody would think much less of him. He was using the threat as an excuse to escape the castle, that's what he was doing. And dragging us along with him.  
The journey was silent. Normally everyone was entertained by Merlin's attempts to annoy Arthur, but the boy said nothing. The silence was foreboding, somehow. The Forest of Abingdon was said to be haunted, and no one had forgotten the last time we had tried to fight spirits.

We stopped just outside the forest. I, for one, was glad we weren't in it. The trees loomed in our line of sight, dark, impenetrable. There seemed to be a perpetual fog drifting about the place.

We made camp in a clearing. Well, Merlin did. I sometimes felt guilty for not helping him more, but the other knights' taunts were something best avoided. The boy was a servant; he was doing his job. He kept looking up at every noise in the shadows, barely noticing the saucepan bubbling before him. He was on edge, nervous. The feeling soon infected everyone. Instinctively trying to retain some degree of normalcy, we all pulled the old routine of emptying the entire saucepan of its contents before Merlin could even blink. He didn't complain, though. He fed the horses, gathered some wood from the edges of the clearing, and sat by the fire.

"What are you doing, Merlin?" asked the king, feeling somewhat suspicious as Merlin rooted through his bag. As an answer, Merlin pulled out a ham and cheese sandwich. He grinned challengingly, but no one tried to take it. We were all stuffed to the gills. No doubt he had done it on purpose; he really was quite cunning.  
But Arthur went there.  
"Ah, my favourite. Thank you, Merlin."  
He plucked the sandwich out of Merlin's hands. The boy's expression faltered. There went his dinner. Arthur forced it down. I looked around for any food we might have missed, but in our hurry to loudly eat all the soup, we had unwittingly eaten _all_ the soup. We never really thought that Merlin went hungry.  
I glared at the back of the king's precious head. He had taken it a step too far. I tried to catch Merlin's eye, but he didn't look at me. _Wouldn't_ look at me. Oh, drat.

We slumped down onto our blankets, in the customary ring around the fire. The night was still, and our eyes were drawn to the only moving thing in the clearing; Merlin stayed up, as usual, to pack and tidy and prepare. Arthur's expression was sleepy, satisfied, bags under his eyes. Come to think of it, he looked like he hadn't slept in a few nights. Well, he was newly married, wasn't he? I smirked. But wait, Merlin looked the same. What had _he_ been up to?  
I smiled myself to sleep. Ah, the musings of an idle mind.

I blinked groggily. Was it morning already? Gawd, I felt like I hadn't slept at all. But hold on, it was only dawn. I could probably manage to sneak in a few more winks. I faded away again.  
A movement reclaimed my attention. Merlin. He had been forced to sleep outside our defensive circle, away from the warmth and light.

He was sitting bolt upright, staring minutely at the edge of the forest. A faint noise. This seemed to confirm his fears, and he stood up, tense and ready.  
Something was quietly coming closer. I burrowed deeper into my blanket, seeking the warmth. It was probably just a boar, Merlin. No need to get all worked up about it.  
His face was troubled, indecisive. He took a deep breath, and came to a decision. He glanced around at the knights, wondering which one to wake up. Honestly, he was so easy to read. I saved him the trouble of annoying someone by rolling off my toasty blankets and onto the cold earth. His gaze snapped to my face, and he heaved a sigh of relief.  
"Gwaine."  
"What is it, friend?" I slurred, reaching for my sword. The noise was closer now. It seemed to be coming from a different direction, too. Actually, no, it was in the same place. But then another rustling started up, and another. I spun around, fully awake. We both realised what it was in the same instant.  
I dove towards the closest prone body. Leon.

"Get up, get up, ambush!" I whispered, and I could hear Merlin doing the same on his end. I shook Leon by his shoulders, because he needed, _needed_ to be awake.  
He finally stirred, and I moved on to Percival. I heard a voice.  
"I swear, Merlin, if this is another badger I will _skin you._" Arthur stopped, hearing as I did the drawing of swords. Coming from all around us.  
He sprang up, staggering slightly. I pulled Percy up by his collar, ignoring his surprisingly feeble protests. His eyes finally blinked open, and he was suddenly pointing his sword at me, then Merlin, then directly in front of him.

There was a pause. Not a sound. We all stood silent, not even breathing. Everyone was up – however unwillingly – and ready. Apart from Merlin. He was in front of us, unarmed and unafraid.  
Then the attack came and I forgot my fears for him. I sliced at a masked man, cutting his arm, ignoring his cry of pain as I knocked back another one. I dodged a scythe and dropped, rolling, springing up and impaling my sword in the back of an assailant. He staggered, fell. His hood came off. I looked down at his face, unable to break away. He was nothing but a boy. Barely Merlin's age. His gaze dimmed, and I came to my senses.  
Too late. A club had found my shoulder, and I automatically dropped my sword, unable to move my arm. Keeping my head, I moved away, just missing the nearest blade. I looked around for another weapon, but my eyes were filled with the sheer number of enemies. We were outnumbered. Normally that wouldn't make a difference, but as I had no weapon…

I'm not sure what came over me. I pulled a man around by his shoulder – a huge, muscly giant – and slammed my fist into his face, plucking his axe from his grasp as he doubled over. I swung it around, taking out two of the nearest bandits. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Merlin being knocked to the ground. A body was flung back and hit me with unnatural force. But I was distracted by another bandit approaching. I soon stopped him and looked around for more.

There were two more black-clothed figures takings swings at Arthur, who seemed to have lost his sword, so I charged in to help and fended them off. There was a momentary stillness; the attack had finally stopped.  
The other knights were missing their swords, too. Good tactic, that, taking your enemy's weapon. I strode over to Merlin, hauling him upright.  
"You all right, mate?"  
"Fine."  
I looked back, noticing Arthur scowling at me as he picked himself up. I had walked right past him to help up Merlin. The king looked flustered and angry. Poor dear wasn't used to needing help on the battlefield. He surveyed the ruined and bloodied camp.

"Thank god you warned us, Gwaine."  
Merlin looked surprised, but he didn't defend himself. Looking at him rather than the king, I answered.  
"It was Merlin who heard them coming."  
"Merlin? Don't be silly. He was too busy sleeping like a baby, weren't you, Merlin?"  
The men chuckled. The adrenaline was wearing off, and smugness was taking its place. We, a relatively small band of six, had taken on and defeated a large band of bandits.  
"_Mer_lin."  
The servant hadn't answered. He was looking around, searching.  
"Where's Leon?"  
Arthur froze. The knights glanced around at the clearing. No Leon. Then we heard a groan coming from the bushes.  
Leon slithered out, a large bruise forming on his forehead and a bloody lip. A blade had pierced his ankle.  
Merlin got to him first, and with Elyan's help, lifted him to the fire. He set about cleaning and dressing the gaping wound, and we stood watching, feeling rather useless.

"What were you doing in the bushes?"  
Leon stared at the sky, then at Arthur.  
"I lost my sword and they threw it over there, somewhere. I went over to the trees, to—"  
He hissed in pain as he tried to sit up.  
"Sorry," interjected Merlin, even though he had nothing to do with it.  
"I saw a branch sticking out of a clump of bushes, so I went to try and use it, but the branch was strong and impossible to remove."  
What a ponce. I mean, who even speaks like that?  
"Then what?"  
"I tried to hide, sire."  
Arthur's face went from curious to disbelieving.  
"You tried to hide? Even though you're techincally immortal?"  
Leon was defensive.  
"I saw that we were outnumbered and I had no weapon. I am not used to hand-to-hand combat, sire."  
The king was thoughtful.  
"Remind me to start a new round of training when we get back to Camelot."  
I groaned. Arthur resumed his interrogation.  
"But why did you hide over there?  
"I had no time. I thought if Merlin could do it, I probably could. But they found me immediately."  
As one, we looked over to Leon's hiding-place. It was small and well-protected. It would have been hard to spot someone through the sheer number of leaves cluttering the line of sight . Whereas Merlin had been lying flat-out on bare ground, not even out of the clearing.

All faces turned to the servant, who flushed to be at the centre of everyone's attention. He twisted his sleeve and spoke nonchalantly.  
"I guess people find it easy to ignore me."  
"And who could think _you_ were a threat?" added Arthur. The men laughed and the tension broke. I noticed Merlin swallowing, looking relieved.  
"But how did _you_ hear the bandits coming?" asked Elyan, looking concerned. "I could barely hear a thing even when I was awake."

Merlin scoffed.  
"You call yourself knights? We were sitting in an unprotected camp, miles from anywhere else, right next to where bandits had been seen, and you all fell asleep and left no one on guard."  
We realised our glaringly obvious mistake.  
"Well, why didn't you remind us then?" said Arthur, irritated.  
"What, and get yelled at for waking you up? Nah."  
Arthur shrugged indifferently and turned away. I shared a look with Percival. That's exactly what Arthur would have done. I leaned closer to Merlin.  
"So you stayed up all night?"  
"Couldn't sleep anyway. Too hungry."  
Oh yeah. Oops.  
"Merlin," came the ever-present party pooper. "Make yourself useful and ready the horses. We need to check out the rest of that forest before we go back."

So we set off again. I rode behind Merlin, looking thoughtfully at his back. How did he manage it? He persistently evaded injury and probable death by hiding behind trees. Yet Leon had just demonstrated how well _that_ didn't work. It wasn't actually easy to ignore Merlin; he was long and lanky, and he was brighter, both mentally and physically, than the rest of us knights. The red and blue clothes, the black hair, as well as the trick with the dinner…

And the fact that he was responsible for nearly everything good and bad coming to Arthur's attention. Without him, we would probably have died several times over. He could sense things in a way none of us could. And though Arthur would never mention it, he was a useful part of the team. I should talk to him when we get home, tell him to claim his credit once in a while. Out here there was no privacy.

We searched the forest, which turned out to be small, empty, and actually quite pleasant. It was soon clear that the only bandits in this area were lying dead in our camp. I was just considering returning early to Camelot and continuing that beer, when we spotted a deer through the trees. It ran away as soon as it saw us, but it was the fifth deer we had seen since we set out.

This in itself was rare. Even in our best hunting ground, the one we used with visiting nobility, we could travel days without seeing a thing. Arthur called a halt.  
"These are fertile lands. How would you feel about a little hunting trip?"  
The boys responded enthusiastically. I threw in a "Fine, but do you have a beer?", to general amusement. Arthur looked pleased, and nodded at Merlin.  
"Send a message with the pigeon."

We dismounted and stretched our legs while Merlin stared at the parchment.  
"What should I write, sire?"  
"I don't know, Merlin. Think of something for yourself, for a change. Don't be such a girl."  
Merlin rolled his eyes and bent his head. There was a pause as he scratched at the paper. After a while, he rolled up the parchment, attached it to the bird and threw it in the air. We all watched it go, the sunlight blinding us.  
"Right then. Off we go."  
We followed him, leaving Merlin behind to put away the cage. Knowing he would follow us, we didn't move slowly. We soon found a flat, open field, through which a large herd of deer roamed, guarded by a powerful buck. Arthur sent Elyan and me to the other end of the field. We rode off, got into position and waited.

And waited. Soon we heard a commotion, and watched helplessly as the deer turned and fled to the forest. Since there was no point in subltety, we rode back directly through the field. As we neared the rest of the gang, we could hear Arthur yelling at someone.

"You useless lout! You just ruined the entire hunting expedition! I honestly don't know why I even keep you, Merlin! You're the worst servant I've ever had!"  
I exchanged a look with Elyan and picked up the pace. Merlin didn't need any more stress today. If Arthur was threatening him, he meant it.

"It's not my fault if nobody told me anything! How could I have—"  
"Oh, shut up. You knew perfectly well we were hunting, you could see we had stopped… Not even a _child_ could have missed the obvious! And I know you hate hunting, you probably sabotaged us so the _pretty deer_ could go free! I know you, Merlin. I know when you're lying. You can't fool me. Admit it, you did this on purpose!"  
I could finally see them. Arthur was on his high horse, looming over Merlin, who had dismounted. The balance of power was evident. The other knights were looking anxiously on.

Merlin seemed to swell with indignation, gritting his teeth, a sure sign he was angry.  
"I didn't! No matter how I felt about hunting, I wouldn't do something as stupid as that!"  
"But you _did_, Merlin. Enough talking, I'm sick of this. Just listen. You've been sullen and angry for months! You think I don't notice, you think I'm completely oblivious! I know everything that goes on! This started at a very specific time. So, tell me Merlin, what problem do you have with Gwen?"  
Merlin stared at him incredulously.  
"If you think I'm actually _jealous_…"  
"I _do_, Merlin. Either you're jealous of Gwen or me. Is that it? You fancy Gwen? Or are you jealous that you're not my _only friend_?"

His tone was harsh and ugly. Merlin spoke calmly, but I could see he was livid. Arthur could, too.  
"This has nothing to do with you. _Or_ Gwen," he added quickly. "It's…not something _you_ could understand. _Any_ of you." He looked directly at me for a moment. I gulped guiltily. "You really think I don't have problems of my own? You treat me like I'm stupid, like I'm just part of the scenery. I'm overworked, underpaid, underfed, I haven't slept in two days, I—"

"Those are stupid problems, Merlin. You're a complete nit sometimes. You're nothing special, all servants go through the same." Arthur had calmed down. He looked slightly ashamed of himself. He was a standard newly-wed, thinking all men wanted to steal his wife.

I was watching Merlin, though. He was even angrier than before, and as I looked on, he seemed on the verge of saying something. But he turned away. I was glad. I didn't want Merlin to get into any more trouble.  
Without a word the servant mounted his horse and left. I quickly followed him, hoping to vent his anger before he murdered Arthur. I had never seen him this angry.

I nudged my horse into a trot and caught up with him. He checked who I was, then the gates opened.  
"He's a complete, bumbling, idiotic fool. The deer hadn't even heard me before he started yelling at me. How is that fair? It was his fault! I couldn't just accuse him of ruining the hunting trip! He doesn't know half of what I do. And why does everything have to be about him? I do have my own life. Everyone around here has theirs. Yet he thinks everyone is out to murder him. All he knows is the number of times someone's nearly killed him. He doesn't know how many people have risked everything to…"

He tailed off suddenly. There was more to the story, but I wasn't going to press him too hard. Just a few minutes ago, he had looked like he was seriously, honestly considering punching his king in the face. I didn't blame him. I bet none of the knights would have stopped him, either. Merlin had hundreds of reasons to lash out at Arthur, more than anyone else in Camelot.  
We went on in silence. I hadn't said a word, but I didn't need to. The storm was over. Before we turned back to find the others, he gripped my shoulder.  
"Thanks."  
I grinned back. "Happy to be of service."

Night was nearing again. We concentrated less on moving fast and more on spreading out to find a good campsite. Leon eventually called out "Here."  
We regrouped and made camp. Arthur hadn't said anything to Merlin since we had returned, and vice versa. This was turning into a feud.

This camp was definitely more protected than the last one. We were in rocky territory, and we were protected by two sheer cliffs on either side. There was a gurgle of water nearby, and Merlin automatically went to fill the waterskins. Leon took this as an opportunity to approach the surly king. I had to admire his nerve. Then again, being immortal did have its advantages. Advantages like the fact that you couldn't be beaten to death by a man who had been training to kill since the day he was born. Small stuff like that.  
"Sire—"  
"Save it, Leon. I know I was wrong."  
Well that hadn't been too bad. I should try it next time.  
We started lighting the fire. What I mean by that is, Percival tried, then Elyan tried, then Leon tried, then I tried, then Merlin came back and did it for us.

Merlin seemed in a better mood, and even jokingly asked Arthur to save him some soup this time. We all ate our fair share, and Merlin's colour started coming back. I saw Arthur noticing it too, and knew he was thinking the same thing: was his lack of colour due to his lack of nutrition? That had to mean he never ate enough in Camelot, and why would he do that? There was plenty of food.

We had stopped unusually early today, so after we had eaten we all wandered around a bit aimlessly, not being tired enough to sleep.  
Arthur was talking to Merlin again from across the camp, and I sat on a conveniently close, concealed rock to eavesdrop on what they were saying. What can I say? Being a knight doesn't mean you're a perfect, virtuous human being.  
"Well, we got the bandits."  
"As opposed to them getting us."  
"That's true. I never did thank you for saving us all from our grisly demise, did I?"  
"No, you didn't."  
"And I'm not going to."  
"Now that's just unfair."  
"It's perfectly fair. Why should a king have to thank a servant?"  
"Maybe when the servant has saved the king's life?"  
"I've already thanked you for that once, years ago."  
"All right then. What about when the servant would do it again?"  
"What servant _wouldn't_ want to die for his king?"  
"A normal one."  
Arthur chuckled. I smiled. They were two halves of a whole.  
"Bank up the fire, it's going out."  
Maybe not totally _even_ halves of a whole.

There was a break in conversation as the fire glowed brighter and I settled more comfortably on the cold surface. I heard Merlin's footsteps cross the camp, then stumble as he tripped and fell. Arthur laughed loudly, more brashly than before. I craned my neck to check if the boy was all right, and saw his face flaming as he picked himself up. This is where the friendship ends and the hostilities begin, I thought to myself.  
"Honestly, Merlin. You are useless."

Merlin didn't reply. He started making his bed, using the thin and threadbare blankets that were all he had against the cold.  
"Aw, are you all upset? Don't be such a girl. Oh, I'm _Merlin_, and I tripped and fell and it _hurts_, and Arthur's being _mean_ to me."  
"I don't talk like that," said Merlin, trying to put on a brave face. I could see the ugly scrape on his knee gently trickling blood.  
"Yes you do, Merlin. That's what you are. A baby. A fairly useless servant that's boring when he's angry, nervous, unhappy, happy, sleepy, sad… I could go on."  
"Oh, so now I'm boring, too." Merlin was getting angry again. I cringed at what was probably going to happen: they would argue, Arthur would fire him, he would try to hit him, Arthur would beat him mercilessly and chase him away… I'd seen it happen to one of the old knights, Mercier.

"You're always boring. You never _do_ anything willingly. You're a lazy slob."  
Merlin didn't respond. That gave Arthur ample opportunity to really drive his point home.  
"I mean, you're always late, you never do anything right, and how many times have you been in the tavern when you were supposed to be working for me?"

What? When had Merlin been in the tavern? I had never seen him in there. That was odd. Why would Merlin lie to Arthur?  
I heard Merlin sigh deeply.  
"What's that supposed to mean? Fine. Be that way. Sulk in the corner like a girl."  
Nothing more was said, until Merlin turned around and said "It means that I have a clotpole for a friend, who insults people when he's bored."

Arthur smiled. He looked relieved. I supposed he didn't actually like fighting with his servant. The only thing that prevented him from constantly being at war with Merlin was Merlin's tendency to let insults bounce off him.

He reached over and punched the boy's shoulder in that _affectionate_ way he had. Merlin looked vaguely happier, but his mind was somewhere else. I saw him glance over at Arthur a dozen times. He took a deep breath. I didn't like the way this was going. He looked oddly determined, afraid, yet dead set. I could hear the knights splashing around and giggling in the background. They must have found the stream. It was an incredibly inappropriate background noise compared to this serious scene.

"Arthur," began Merlin. He was trembling. Percy let off an unusually high-pitched scream, followed by a particularly loud splash, and I cursed him mentally.  
"What is it, Merlin?" The king looked around lazily, oblivious to Merlin's internal struggle.  
"Arthur, I'm… I'm a sorcerer."


	2. The King Proves His Idiocy

I fell off the rock.  
_That was it_. That's what was behind everything. I knew there was _something_, but I always thought he was hiding some mysterious fighting tactic, one he didn't want to share. How could I have been so _stupid_? This was so much bigger than that. How could he have kept this secret for so long? Why didn't he tell me? I thought I was his friend.

Then I was overwhelmed by the sheer hugeness of what had just happened. This explained everything I could think of: Merlin's reckless bravery; all those times he was dying, and woke up the next morning; his apparent invisibility on the battlefield; the way he had resisted Lamia…  
Oh god. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. I rolled to my feet, no longer caring if I was seen. Merlin's head snapped around immediately, and I just stared at him. Merlin…

He nodded, his expression a deep mixture of shame, sorrow, and a hope that was almost painful to see. He turned back to the king, the hope filling his whole face. I looked at the king, the man who feared magic, the man who had been betrayed so many times before…  
The man who was laughing. His face was red, his hands clutching his stomach as though it hurt. He doubled up, chortling, and I had never hated him more.

"Knights!" yelled Arthur. "_Merlin_ here just told me he's a _sorcerer_."  
There was an answering guffaw from the knights as they reached the camp. I remained frozen in shock, and Leon's face slackened abruptly as he figured it out. Arthur didn't see it, though; he was drunk on mirth, fat on stupidity and ignorance. I despised him for a moment.  
He turned his back on Merlin, his expression a bit more serious, wiping tears from his eyes.  
"That was a good one. But you should keep your mouth shut in future, Merlin. Some people might take you seriously."  
Hate as I had never seen it before flashed on Merlin's face. Darkness fell instantly on the camp, and Merlin raised a hand and spoke an unintelligible word. A white beam of lightning split open the sky and smashed into the fire, making the flames roar to three times their normal height. Arthur froze and slowly wheeled around. The knights fell silent.

"You have no idea what I've been going through every day for the past five years, Arthur. _NO_ idea. Watching you berate magic, sentencing sorcerers to death, knowing that you would kill me if you ever found out. I'm _sick_ of this, of _all_ of this. This is who I am."  
There was absolute silence. Nobody moved, nobody spoke. We just watched the Merlin we knew transform into a stranger.  
"You thought I was just stupid old Merlin, weak little Merlin, unable to even lift a knife. You think you're so powerful, with your _army_ and your _sword_. After everything you put me through, all the times you've insulted me, hit me, sent me away, made fun of me, _protected_ me. All this time, I've been more powerful than you could ever be. I have saved your life so many times." He moved closer. The anger in his voice was palpable, the air stung with accusations.  
He looked around. "I've saved _all_ of your lives, in ways you could never imagine. How do you _think_ I survived every battle, alone and defenceless? How many times has a man been hit by a falling branch, or dropped his sword? Did you even _notice_? How come I knew everything before anyone else? I knew Morgana had magic for _years_, but I never told. I knew Agravaine was betraying you an entire month before you found out. What do _you_ think I should have done, Arthur? Should I have told you, and gotten executed for treason, or stood by and watch as people were murdered before my eyes? How many times have _you_ had to make that decision?"  
Arthur gulped, tried to speak, his face a white mask, but Merlin didn't pause.  
"I've cooked your meals, I've cleaned and mended your clothes, I've polished your armour, I've mucked out your stables, I've been in the stocks more times than I can count. I put up with that, with _all_ of that, every single stinking day since I got here. I could have killed you the very first day I met you, but I didn't. It's my _destiny_ to protect you, Arthur.  
And yet you hate my kind. You think magic's evil? I am the most powerful sorcerer alive, and have you been harmed? No. I've helped you. _I_ forged the sword Excalibur. _I_ pushed it into the stone, and I used magic to help you pull it out. _Yes_, I used magic. Everything you've done, everything you believe in, is founded on magic. You were born only out of the power of the witch Nimueh. I lied to you. Ygraine was telling the truth. I knew. Magic is just a tool, you need to understand that; it can be used for good and for bad. I knew that, and Morgana didn't, and look what happened to her! She thinks she is undefeatable. Hah!  
I am the last Dragonlord. _I _command the Great Dragon. I am the last of my kind, I alone remain. I am Emrys, and the druids owe allegiance to _me_. I am Dragoon."  
He suddenly looked regretful. There was the tensest silence I had ever heard. Dragoon, the horrible old wizard who had escaped the flames in Camelot? The man who…  
There came a strangled cry beside me.  
"You!"  
Arthur wrenched his sword from its scabbard.  
"You _killed my father_!"  
I could only watch as Arthur ran towards Merlin, his sword raised, his face a mask of confused fury. He swung his sword, close enough to cut, close enough to kill. And stopped. His sword touching Merlin's neck.  
Merlin hadn't moved. Hadn't even flinched. He stared Arthur in the eye. Not even stopping his own death.  
"I would die for you, Arthur."  
There was silence. An interminable pause. Then a low mutter.  
"Go."  
Merlin hesitated. The blade pressed deeper into his neck, drawing blood.  
"Go. LEAVE!"  
Arthur shoved Merlin away, then recoiled. Merlin strode to his horse, not even gathering his belongings. He mounted, then looked back. There was such a deepness in his gaze, such sadness, that I mourned for him.  
"Morgana is strong. She will attack in two weeks' time and it will mean the fall of Camelot. You will need help."  
The horse galloped forwards, and at the last moment, we all felt it in our heads. _I'm sorry._

We stood watchful at the entrance to the camp. Arthur had warned us – after an age of standing motionless, harbouring a fierce internal battle – to kill anyone on sight, but we knew who he was talking about. Then the proud, angry king had stormed off through the boulders, deaf to our qualms.  
It all made sense, though. Merlin's mysterious ability to deflect attention, the quiet air of certainty he sometimes exuded, the way he walked into battle unarmed and left unharmed.  
But he was Dragoon. The evil sorcerer. I couldn't figure out what it was about. The wizard who had enchanted Arthur. The wizard who had killed his father. Dragoon was powerful and spiteful and repulsive, and if _he_ was Merlin, there was a dark streak in him after all. I turned to Percy who was keeping watch beside me.  
"If Merlin were Dragoon…"  
Before the knight had a chance to reply, a voice spoke from the darkness. Arthur.  
"Gaius told me that Morgana had killed my father. There was no way to save him. Dra – Merlin had done nothing wrong."  
He was calm. I couldn't read what he was thinking.  
"Gaius must have known all along."  
Uh oh. I hoped he would leave him alone.  
But then another thought struck me. Merlin had stood by him as the king had hated and feared magic. How many thousands of people had Uther killed and Arthur banished? This was the reason for Merlin's gradual withdrawal, his anxiety, his guilt.  
I looked at Arthur and saw that he knew. He understood everything, probably better than me.  
"What will you do?"  
"Merlin can't come back, Gwaine. I hope you can understand that and respect my decision."  
The king turned and retreated to the shadows again. He had locked down. I'd seen that face before, when he put his actions as a warrior before his feelings as a human, not letting his emotions show. We'd all done things we weren't proud of, but Arthur carried the weight of them everywhere.

None of us slept that night. At around midnight we all attempted to get some rest, apart from Arthur, who had vanished back into the shadows. We soon gave up on that. The night was freezing, the fire had gone out and our brains were buzzing like bees.  
I found myself wondering what Merlin could actually do with his magic. He was obviously quite powerful, but how powerful was quite powerful? Could he control the weather, grant wishes, bring people back from the grave? My stomach rumbled. Could he produce food out of thin air? Or beer? But I had to focus. I winced. How many times had we been saved by a flash of magic? Maybe this was why he always rolled his eyes when people congratulated the king on another victory. I always figured it was because he didn't want Arthur even more big-headed. I guessed it was because of his direct involvement with the enemy's downfall.  
We mused in the silence of the night. I realised we were all awake, and split the silence.  
"Did anyone know?"  
A pause.  
"I did."  
I sat up.  
"_Elyan_?"  
His tone was suddenly defensive.  
"I grew up outside Camelot, in a small place near a druid camp, where magic was allowed. I stayed with them for a few days on my way to Flancia, and they… taught me a few things. Not magic. Ways to help me recognise some. Things like the fact that a sorcerer is never injured during battle, unless taken by surprise. And the fact that true magic is attracted to good souls, which Merlin obviously is."  
I nodded to myself, voicing what I had been suspecting.  
"And Lancelot must have known."  
"Why do you say that?" said one of them.  
"He looked out for Merlin. Always volunteered to go with him. Stayed close. Merlin must have told him. He always trusted Lance."  
There came a sudden rustle as someone left late, I recognised the voice, but Arthur had already gone. The knights berated me under their breath, but the damage was done. The rest of the night was an oppressive stillness.

The horses got impatient at dawn. They were normally fed and watered by this time. Where had the normal human gone? Why were these idiots clomping around their heads? They complained, energetically. Elyan, the blacksmith, eventually calmed them and prepared their tack. When we were all ready to leave, I hunted around for Arthur. I eventually found him sitting on the ground facing the stream.  
"Arthur? We're leaving."  
There was no response. I noticed his shoulders shaking, and I heard a quiet sob. This was not a good time to interrupt; Arthur was the type of man to beat you senseless if you said he was weak. Leon the indestructible had better handle this one.  
I returned to the others.  
"Wait a bit."  
They flopped down onto the ground, perfectly willing to wait as long as it took. This was one of the problems of being a knight; you had to do as you were told. Any arguments were taken as treason, if your commander was in a particularly bad mood. Not very fun for someone like me. I hated orders.  
After ten minutes, during which I dreamed about beer, Arthur emerged from the shrubbery. I could see no sign of tears, and he looked as proud as ever. He was a good actor.  
Come to think of it, Merlin was a better one. He had fooled everyone he met into thinking he was a simpleton. This set my thoughts buzzing once again.

The sovereign didn't say a word, just mounted his horse and led us away. The ride was longer and more boring than the first one. It was difficult to think that just two days ago, I was complaining about beer and about moving around too much. So much had happened that the memory was distant and unrealistic.  
We rode quickly and made the gates of Camelot just before nightfall. We clopped into the yard, where Queen Guinevere was awaiting us on the steps, relieved and happy that we were home safe. My stomach clenched at the thought of keeping up the pretence that everything was all right, and we all must have felt the same way, because we brought our horses to the stables ourselves instead of leaving them with the stable hands and entering the castle directly. Arthur didn't acknowledge the wave of his beloved, and we moved away before I could see the look of confusion and hurt on her face.  
Arthur led his horse into its box, and stared a moment at the empty stall next to it.  
The stable boy in charge of the royal horse looked at Arthur, confused.  
"Where's the other one?"  
Reality hit again, and Arthur left abruptly. I just shook my head at the boy, not meeting his gaze. The thought that I would never see Merlin's familiar, perenially overexcited horse again ripped through my brain.  
If there was ever a time for the pub, it was now. I strode across the square before someone could stop me, but was barely halfway before a hand grasped my arm and checked me. Gwen.  
"What's going on, Gwaine? Arthur won't talk to me. What's wrong? Where's…" She tailed off as she understood.  
"Where's Merlin?" Her tone was sharper now, scared, definitely worried. Why should she care, I thought bitterly. Why would the queen care about a lowly servant? She squeezed my arm tighter, and I winced, but there was no escape. I sighed and pushed the hair out of my face.  
"You know how there's… something _about_ Merlin?"  
She nodded hesitantly, the question still on her face.  
"He told us. He has magic."  
Her eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. Her expression changed from amazement to understanding as she glanced over her shoulder.  
"And Arthur…"  
"Arthur didn't take it well."  
She let go of me, her mind still wrapping around the best-kept secret any of us had ever heard. She stood stock-still in the middle of the square. The knights were in similar stances with their loved ones. The total absence of Merlin filled everything.  
"Merlin's gone. Arthur won't let him come back. We won't be able to change his mind. You should go to him."  
She nodded absent-mindedly. I made my escape.  
Just before I reached the tavern door, another thought struck me. Gaius. He had to know. I groaned. Damn my essentially good nature.  
I changed direction and headed to the physician's chambers. Merlin's chambers. I pushed the thought away to do what needed to be done.  
I walked in without a second thought, to find Arthur slumped on the table, Gaius patting his shoulder. They hadn't noticed me. I quickly ducked out and hid around the corner. This, although I hated it, was the only way to really find out what was going on.

There was silence. I could see a fraction of Arthur's face, and it looked like all the laws and precedents in the world had burned to the ground. This was completely unlike Arthur. I hadn't even seen him look this helpless when his father died. Was killed. By Merlin.  
Merlin was a good man. I had to remember that. But it was proving difficult, knowing he had such secrets. And who didn't get corrupted by power? Little niggling doubts made their presence known. I pushed them away, concentrating on what was happening on the other side of the door.  
"He's gone. And I made him go. It was the right thing to do." He didn't sound convinced.  
More silence. A few clinks. Gaius was preparing a potion.  
"He was my friend. He saved my life. But he killed my father."  
I could hear the conflict in his voice.  
"All those people killed…all those men executed… Merlin had to watch it all."  
And to think that Merlin had kept loyal, stayed by his side, put on a bright face and a happy step, when inside he must have despised him… I could understand Arthur's grief. I even felt sorry for the king for a moment, before remembering the exile of the only real friend I had.  
"You tried to tell me once."  
Gaius' gravelly voice was subdued.  
"Merlin sacrificed everything he had. He achieved impossible things, and never took credit for anything. He believed in you."  
Arthur collapsed on the table again, vulnerable. A defensive instinct broke through and he rounded on Gaius.  
"And how long have you known about this?"  
The old man stared at him coolly.  
"Don't blind yourself with hatred, sire. Don't blame the wrong people."  
There was renewed silence before Gaius continued.  
"Merlin was born with the gift. He had never studied a word before he came to Camelot, yet he saved my life as he walked in the door. His destiny is tied to yours. He was always meant to find you and protect you against the dangers you face. It has been written since the dawn of time."  
"And how did _you_ find out about this? I've never heard any of this before."  
"Yes you have, my lord. Merlin told you he protected you, and you chose to disregard the statement. But he, we found out when he spoke with the Great Dragon Kilgarrah, who was chained beneath Camelot for hundreds of years."  
"A _dragon_ told you of this?"  
"Dragons are wise and powerful creatures of magic. It is difficult to wound one and near impossible to kill one."  
"Hang on, I killed that dragon!"  
"Did you? Who told you that?"  
There was a pause.  
"Merlin. Come to think of it, I was knocked out."  
"Merlin stepped up and found his powers as a Dragonlord. He ordered it away and saved Camelot."  
"How many times have things like this happened?"  
"Too many to count."  
Arthur pushed back his chair.  
"I should leave." He was angry suddenly, ticked off by what had been going on right under his nose.  
I darted away, my heart thudding. I heard Arthur stride down the corridor, sniffling as he went, wiping his face with the back of his hand. I calmed myself, and finally went to the tavern, where the waitress, knowing me rather personally, had left my unfinished beer on the counter. I broke into a broad grin. This was better. Here, I could escape the harsh reality that was my life for a precious few hourse.

"Gwaine!"  
I spun around, my instincts ready to attack, my nerves strung tight, the corridor dark and empty at this time of night. It was Arthur, just coming out of the dining hall, still clutching a goblet of wine. I drooled mentally; just a sip of that wine was equal to two whole tankards of standard beer. I shook myself and nodded at him.  
"Yes, Princess?"  
"Where am I?"  
He'd been drinking. I'd been drinking. Everyone who knew of Merlin's revelation had been drinking, apart from Gwen the Good, who preferred to express herself through wild bouts of lying around.  
The king's face was ruddy and unfocused, but I had the feeling he was much more alert than he pretended. Arthur was one of those men who didn't really get drunk until the eighth or ninth pint, and he always took care to stop before that.  
If I could see through it, so could everyone else. I had to play along and get him to his chambers before he was seen in this depressive state.  
"I'll take you, Princess."  
He staggered towards me, leaning all his weight on my outstretched arm as I tried to avoid any proximity. I pulled him quickly through the corridors, and sighed in relief when we reached his door.  
"This is your stop."  
He pushed open the door and meandered inside. I shut the door behind him and waited until I was sure he wasn't going to trip and die. All was silent inside.  
I turned to leave. And was soon stopped by a wordless yell.  
Arthur charged out, his eyes flaming, the door banging against the wall. He marched off in the direction of the barracks.  
"Double the guard!" I heard in the distance.  
The sudden change was alarming. I stood stock-still in the middle of the corridor, then made up my mind and entered the room, for the first time in my life.  
It wasn't anything that special, to be honest. I'd expected to find a gold-plated floor, an enamelled bed and a diamond-paned window, inlaid with platinum. It was actually just a fancy bedroom.  
I looked around, increasingly aware of the heavy footsteps approaching rapidly. There, a scrap of paper left on the desk. I leaned in, eyes focusing slowly in the dark room. In neat, rounded letters, were the words:  
_**You cannot fight this war alone.  
Your horse can find me.  
-M  
**_My heart leapt. Merlin had been here! My heart sank. Merlin had been here. He'd sneaked into the king's bedroom, left a foreboding message, and evaded the guard with unusual ease. With Arthur in two minds about magic, this could have pushed him over the edge of reason.  
And it had.

We were seated in the meeting hall. Actually, the council was seated and everyone else was slumped. After an exhaustive search of the entire castle and a complete lack of sleep, we were sure of Merlin's absence but unsure of how long we could hold out before we collapsed. The strain of impending doom can be so wearying.  
We looked up as one as Arthur crashed in in his customary fashion: late. He looked grim, determined. His cloak was stained and his hair ruffled, but he looked much the same as always, the arrogant prat.  
"Gentlemen, I'm sorry to have dragged you out of your beds so early this morning," he said, completely disregarding the blatant state of exhaustion of the knights and speaking only to the muffin-headed, irritatingly chipper Higher Council.  
"We are in a state of emergency. The castle was breached late last night, and no one has seen a thing. I want to find out how it was done and track down the culprit. Things like this are unacceptable at the current time."  
I sat up. "What do you mean?"  
"Morgana has been sighted again. She appears to be leading an army of… Sidhe."  
"Of what? Did you say she?"  
"The Sidhe are a powerful magical race that seek to destroy Camelot and those within it."  
Gaius, filling in as usual with his vast knowledge of everything.  
"Security must be tightened. Who knows what damage the intruder last night has done?"  
"Do we know who this intruder is?"  
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose.  
"His name is Merlin."  
There was a collective gasp. This was the first time the council had heard of Merlin's disappearance, and the knights had no idea of last night's events.  
"_Merlin_? The manservant?"  
The Council Elder sounded incredulous. They all knew Merlin by sight; he was always there, the only servant permanently allowed in the chambers.  
"Merlin was here?"  
Elyan was on the right track. Leon was catching up too. Arthur leaned his hands on the table, his tone serious.  
"Merlin is an enemy of Camelot, and _must be treated as such_." His eyes needled mine, then Gaius'.  
"He is a great threat. He claims to know of a battle that will be fought against Morgana in two weeks' time, and he has an unparalleled knowledge of the city's defences."  
"But _Merlin?"_ repeated the Elder. "He seemed such a nice young man."  
"My lord," started Leon. "Do we actually have any proof that Merlin isn't on our side?"  
"_All_ magic is evil, no matter the form."  
"Excuse me, sire, but I was under the impression you were leaving the druids alone. Are we going to start hunting them, now that you have been blinded by—"  
"Sir Elyan, I _will_ have you banished from Camelot if you do not respect my decisions. I am your _king_, the head of this kingdom and everyone in it. The duty of protecting you falls to me. And I will _not_ have a commoner tell me what to do."  
_Merlin did._  
The thought passed between all us knights. The council didn't speak, rattled by such vehemence. Arthur continued, out of breath, slightly manic.  
"The system must be changed now, before any enemies can take advantage of our weakness. New siege tunnels must be dug, and more guards trained. The sooner the better. Those are my orders, and I expect you to fallow them."  
With a last glare, he swept out of the room, slamming the door behind him.  
"We have no chance," said Percival. "No hope in hell of doing all of that in two weeks."  
We were all grim-faced as we started to file out the door. There was an inevitability in the air. Our numbers had been decimated by Morgana's last attack; we four were the only fully-trained knights remaining, and there were barely enough guards to mount a decent patrol every night. Merlin knew that. I forced my thoughts away. Time couldn't poison my memories of the strongest man I ever knew. But the misgivings grew stronger.  
I found myself facing Gaius. I searched his features, and realized he was unusually calm. There was a light in his eyes that only emerged around one person. Could it be?  
"Where is he?" I whispered.  
"Come with me to my chambers," he responded loudly after a pause. "I have the perfect concoction for your tiredness."  
I followed him immediately to the official court physician chambers. He closed the door firmly behind us and nodded in the direction of Merlin's bedroom.  
I smiled. Had he really been here this entire time? That was just like him.  
I opened the door eagerly. And was greeted by the sight of a large, sleek dog, stretched out flat on the bed. It jolted awake and considered me intelligently.  
I looked round at Gaius, who nodded mischievously.  
"Merlin?"  
The dog bounded up and padded towards me. It was black, with a narrow face and a smiley mouth. Maybe some type of wolfhound, but immense.  
"How did you get like this?" I asked doubtfully.  
The dog looked down, growled. Its, _his_ eyes flashed a bright gold, and the floorboard grew a single bluebell.  
My mouth dropped open with an unattractive pop. This was real magic, being performed in front of my eyes.  
Merlin smiled at me, his head cocked to one side, his tongue drooping lazily out of his mouth. I rooted around his room, uncovered a red neckerchief and tied it around his neck. Perfect.  
"Merlin! There you are!"  
The dog barked happily and pushed his nose against my arm. I petted him, feeling slightly foolish, but overjoyed. Merlin was here! I heard the physician say something, and backed out of the room to hear him.  
"I heard something outside the door yesterday afternoon, and found Merlin here. He's disguised himself well, but I told him he couldn't fool me. The spell was strong, but he'll need a potion if he wants to keep that form much longer. I'm preparing it now."  
I glanced back at the furry Merlin, who had followed me out of the room and was wagging his tail. I hated to destroy the mood, but I had to let him know.  
"Arthur thinks you are an enemy. He's doubling security and searching the castle. I think you did more harm than good, my friend."  
Merlin couldn't really answer back, so I turned to Gaius.  
"I think I know his reasoning. Arthur may fear magic, and now Merlin, but he needed some way to know how he could find help when he needed it. It will work in the long term, I'm sure." He finished rather doubtfully, but Merlin nodded right along with him. He curled up on his side, apparently tired, and I noticed a ridiculously large thorn protruding from his side.  
"Honestly, Merlin, how do you always manage to get the worst of everything? That is the biggest splinter I've ever seen."  
I reached over to pull it out, barely noticing Gaius glance up sharply. Merlin shrugged and sighed in dog-fashion.  
"Don't touch it!"  
I froze. Gaius strode over and squinted at it.  
"My dear boy…"  
No. This could not be good.  
"Where did you get this?"  
Merlin, who had stiffened in shock, turned around and gave us a 'are you seriously expecting me to tell you' face. Gaius had paled. He removed the tweezers he kept in his breast pocket and carefully pulled the splinter out.  
"I don't believe it. This is a Sidhe arrow. They must have somehow spotted you on your way here. Sidhe arrows are laced with a deadly toxin that will slowly destroy and deteriorate your body. The process can take weeks. Most painful."  
He got up and bustled in his usual fashion, pulling out books, moving aside test tubes. He was in his element here. He returned with a heavy tome and cleared his throat importantly.  
"Fortunately, there is a known antidote. Should be simple enough to brew up. The Sidhe are undoubtedly powerful, but their knowledge and cunning is limited. I shall need perhaps five hours. Merlin should stay here and rest."  
I agreed. Then, with the worst timing I could ever have imagined, the guards knocked on the door.  
"_Open the door. We have permission from the king to search your premises_."

I stared wild-eyed at Gaius. The physician had lost what little colour he had regained. We were scuppered. Caught paw-handed.  
I jolted into action. There was no back door, so Merlin would have to stay put. I pulled down an old blanket and spread it into an oval. Then I steered Merlin towards it, plonking him down firmly and running to the bedroom.  
"_What are you doing in there? Open this door at once_."  
I ignored them, motioning to Gaius to clear away the books as I straightened out the bed. Maybe, if we were lucky, we could fool the guards, who weren't exactly known for their cunning.  
The pounding became more insistent. A new voice broke through.  
"_Why aren't you in there yet? My orders were clear: search the premises and alert me of any suspicious items. Not 'have a nice chat outside the front door'. Get in there."_  
I froze all over again. Arthur. Merlin looked up and whined.

The dog stared at me. The fur matched Merlin's hair colour perfectly, the eyes were wide and human, and as I watched, the brown pupils faded and were replaced by familiar blue ones. The enchantment was wearing off. He was easily, confusingly recognisable by anyone who had even seen Merlin.  
"You'll have to make a run for it, buddy."  
He nodded once, and jogged behind the door, his whole body tensed.  
"_They're not letting us in, my lord_."  
"_Well, you're soldiers! Break down the door! Now!"_  
There were a few embarrassed apologies, then the heavy, painful-sounding thuds began.  
"All right, all right, I'm coming."  
The physician descended the short staircase and adjusted his robes before pulling open the door.  
"What took you so long?"  
Arthur pushed past him without waiting for an answer. He spotted me and gritted his teeth.  
"Why are _you_ here, Gwaine? You were supposed to be at the training grounds."  
"I had merely offered to give Sir Gwaine a sleeping draught, to help him sleep better."  
"You guards, the bedroom is through there."  
I adjusted my face to appear innocent. I had never managed it before, but there was no harm in trying. We stood in awkward silence for a few minutes. Then a guard gave a shout.  
"I found something, sire! An old roll of parchment and some ink!"  
The king marched straight in. I could see him through the doorway, matching the roll to the note Merlin had left. He glanced up triumphantly and stalked back into the center room.  
"Been writing letters, Gaius?"  
He looked around an instant before Gaius moved to block his line of sight. I could see his eyes widen, his face slacken; he had seen the dog, still wearing that ridiculous red neckerchief.

I heard a scrabble and a rapid thud of paws. Then Arthur was running, running after Merlin, his intentions written clearly on his face. I chased him, leaving the physician in the room, leaving him because I had to stop the crazed king. Merlin was fast; he streaked towards the main gate. Arthur's horse was faster; he had jumped on the first one he had seen and was galloping full-speed over the uneven cobbles. The guards at the gate were startled awake and, seeing a horse bearing down on them, blocked the road. I ran flat-out, nearly falling on my face but plowing on. The race was short.

The dog squeezed beneath their lances and sprinted away, the horse clattered to a stop and Arthur yelled and cursed, red in the face. The people stared. It was over.  
I was leaning over, severely out of breath, when I realized I should get out of the way, out of Arthur's hair lest he should remember me, and head to the training grounds. I needed to get the image of Arthur hunting Merlin down out of my eyes.

The knights were wrestling, learning hand-to-hand combat as per Arthur's instructions. The most recently promoted knights watched, in theory to learn and be instructed and in reality placing bets and heckling.  
Percival looked up, his face flushed, sweat staining his brow.  
"Thought you'd be at the pub, this time of the day."  
My expression must have given something away, because he stood up and walked over, completely ignoring Elyan's heroic attempts to tackle him. I went to the edge of the field, sat down and was soon joined by the rest of the gang.  
"What's happened?"  
"What's wrong?"  
"Merlin was here. He came disguised as a dog. Sleeping in his own room, can you believe it? The patrol came, Arthur saw him. Merlin had to run. Arthur chased him away from Camelot. Like he was an enemy."  
Silence as they absorbed it. I could feel their small, niggling suspicions, the same I had had, the unwilling knowledge that he might be the enemy, and jumped in before they could say anything. I needed to convince myself as much as them. Merlin's reappearance had done little to drive them back.  
"Remember Merlin. Remember the poor sod that did everything he was told, never complaining. The boy that could make Arthur smile. The man that never flinched. He always knew what he was doing, more so than the king. So, he had his secrets. We have ours. It's Arthur that's making you doubt him; who says magic is so evil?"  
"I do."  
I jumped. The king was standing terrifyingly close, hair slicked back with sweat, still panting. The knights leapt up as one and hurried away, picking up spears and shields, hitting each other absent-mindedly.  
"Sire?"  
"I don't remember asking you to commit treason, Gwaine. You may have felt that Merlin was your friend, but those days are long over. He played you like a harp. He played us all. Who knows what he's planning? But for now, get over there, and teach those idiots how to fight. Are we clear?"  
"Perfectly, my lord."  
I ducked away, pleased that he recognised my extensive knowledge of the subject and terrified he was going to behead me while I wasn't looking, he was that angry. I swung a punch at Leon, dodged his reciprocation, and pushed him casually into a pole. Elyan attacked me from the left, and I tripped him up and tipped him gently down the hill. Percival saw me coming, tried to avoid me, and fell down on his own, the dolt. I stood alone on the field, surrounded by fallen enemies. An oddly familiar scene.  
The way I saw it, I had the only chance of helping Merlin out. He was sick, dying. If we didn't get the antidote to him in time…  
In the midst of these musings, I completely failed to see the shape approaching in the corner of my eye and was knocked down. A clean punch to the ear. As I lay grunting on the grass, a shadow swam in front of my eyes.  
"I'm watching you," growled Arthur. "You're not the only clever one here, Gwaine."


	3. A Horse Is Smarter Than An Arthur

Every day, I was tortured with the thought of the pain Merlin was in. Gaius said he had three weeks at most before his lungs collapsed. Half a dozen times, I tried to take Arthur's horse and find him, but the king kept his promise and was always there, watching. He kept me inside the castle at all times, guarding the vaults, the dungeons, the city walls and the sewers, menial, tiresome jobs. I half-heartedly tried to protest, but the uncertainty was stronger than ever. The knights had succumbed to their doubts and avoided the topic entirely, whereas I agonized over it every minute of every day; it beat like a mantra in my head. Merlin is dying. Merlin is dying. Merlin is dying.

But the doubts were getting stronger, too. Unbidden memories of the old man Dragoon crept into my mind, when he escaped from the pyre in the courtyard, when he effortlessly knocked us all out in that forest, Arthur's face when Uther was killed… But Merlin was good. And completely dependent on Gaius and me. And here I was, sitting on my ass and taking orders from a fat king.

If anyone called Arthur fat nowadays, they were publically beaten and put in the stocks for two days. The change in Arthur was unbelievable; he never smiled, never laughed, ordered banishments and executions as if they were feasts and banquets; he seemed to enjoy them, take pleasure in them. He was a changed man. Gwen was powerless; the king ignored her, and if he noticed her existence, it was to order her to her room. The citizens of Camelot hurried past the castle in groups. The air was thick with fear and confusion.

For troubling reports were coming in. The crops in all corners of the kingdom had failed suddenly and unexpectedly, the land turned poor and unyielding. The wave of famine drifted slowly closer to Camelot, destroyed towns and villages in its wake. And it drove an enormous crowd of villagers, making their way towards Camelot, hoping to be sheltered and fed within its great walls. The migrants flooded the city, emptied the stores, filled the streets at night; it was an influx unlike anything ever seen before. And all the scouts who had been stationed in the east and west had disappeared entirely. The small army who had headed out to find them had never returned. We were blind, vulnerable, housing the kingdom's entire population, as vulnerable as we'd ever been.

Morgana was seen exactly two weeks after Merlin had vanished. She was walking on a hilltop, a hundred feet away from Camelot. Leading a vast army of foot soldiers, stretching away as far as the eye could see. Above their heads floated an immense cloud of the Sidhe on their dragonflies. They were in their thousands. A terror gripped me and I felt weak. I staggered towards the hall, bursting into the room where Arthur was holding yet another council of war. He leapt up at once, taking in my condition and paling.  
"They're here."

I hadn't slept in four days. Every time they found a way through, we were there, cutting, slicing, killing, fighting for our lives. There were dozens of us and thousands of them. The dragonflies hovered over us, feeding on the dead, laying eggs in the precious food we had left, polluting the air with the poisonous smell they exuded. The Sidhe watched from the windows of the houses, content to wait for their inevitable victory. What use were arrows that needed weeks to take effect? Why not keep your hands clean?  
Morgana drifted in the shadows, ripping apart the resistance, setting fire to houses, trees, the stones Camelot was built with. It was an endless night, that stopped as they drew away every morning, leaving us to rebuild walls, quench fires, heal the wounded and count the dead. We couldn't hold out much longer. We lived each day in constant terror, not speaking, not eating, held together by adrenaline and a throbbing need to survive.  
We were lying flat-out on the cobblestones of the courtyard, rubbing elbows with the dead but past caring. Gaius had threatened to knock us out if we didn't rest.  
The dead stretched from every corner of Camelot, piled into shallow holes, hidden in basements, or just lying broken and congealing on the street. We had fought the nausea, the repulsion, propping the bodies against holes that needed to be filled. Gwen was missing, Leon had vanished. Arthur's face was a sight of burning, burning desperation.

We dragged a rabid Arthur away from Camelot, tying him to his horse, galloping, running for our lives, the sound of the dragonflies finally fading, the horses' wheezes replacing them. We ran and ran, leaving behind the ruined, smoking city, leaving behind countless hundreds who had begged for us to save them, trying to forget the piles of corpses being scorched, the smell tainting the air we breathed. Elyan and Gaius had joined the ranks of the missing, and we left them behind. We ran, and ran, and ran, only brought to a standstill when the horses started dropping.  
We toppled off them and slept where we were.

I had to wake up. Something could be wrong. I forced myself into consciousness, straining to waken. I opened my eyes, then gave up. Then a tube was pressed into my mouth, and I swallowed the pellets that dropped from it. Then I jolted awake, coughing, hacking.  
"What _is_ that?" I managed amid the chokes, my eyes streaming.  
"Coffee beans. A recent invention, brought from far away. I'm not very sure of it yet."  
That voice. That smell.  
"Gaius!"  
He chuckled. "Yes, Gwaine, I escaped with my life. We found you in the woods and took you in. We were worried you were too far gone, you gave us all a fright. But you'll be surprised at what we've managed to cook up out here."  
I tried to focus on something. My eyes were bleary, glued together with sleep. My head, my arms, my entire body ached. My toes were freezing. The bed was uncomfortable. The light was bright, knifing into my eyes.  
"Where are we?"  
Gaius didn't reply, but helped me carefully up and let me see for myself. We were in the middle of a forest, in a clear, scarce clearing surrounded by dark bushes. I had been sleeping on a pile of woodcuts covered by a few blankets, and as I looked around, I saw dozens more. Dozens…  
"How many people are here?"  
"About fifty. There's another, much larger settlement a distance away, but we prefer our spot."  
I saw a few strangers in the same state I was in, some still asleep. Leon - Leon! - was huddled close to the fire, burns on his arms and hands. A few beds over, I saw Arthur lying prone, and at his head…  
"Gwen! Elyan!"  
They turned and smiled at me, their grins identical. Gaius explained what had happened.  
"I knew we couldn't survive another attack like the one last year without Merlin, so I took the precaution of seeking out ideal hiding-places late last year. I'm surprised you didn't notice the sheer lack of human life in Camelot; you must have been the only survivors running around the place. The people left willingly. I didn't inform Arthur as I knew he would never approve. There's no food, but we can hang on a bit longer."  
It made sense; both the unusual emptiness around Camelot and the strategic planning of having a few safe locations for the population to regroup.  
"Gaius… this is amazing!"  
He shrugged. "Wait until you tell that to the king."  
He was right, Arthur didn't take it well. After he had gotten over the shock of discovering the remainder of Camelot squatting in the woods, he berated everyone lengthily for cowardice, thanked them profusely, kissed Gwen, and fell over. He sat on the ground looking shocked. I hid a laugh and eyed the place.  
It was definitely cosy. There wasn't much room, and it had less appeal if we were all going hungry. The beds were arranged in a circle, focusing on a large fire in the exact center of the clearing. The horses were tethered in one corner, guarded by a large sheepdog. The sole building in sight was a small hut, crammed with blankets, wood and the pitiful rations.  
I was jolted out of my immobile tour of inspection by the sight of Arthur approaching. Gaius finished tying the bandage on my arm and faced him.  
"Gaius. I need to know something."  
"Good morning, sire. I trust your lodgings were up to scratch?"  
"This is serious, Gaius."  
"I am aware, sire, but can't it wait?"  
"No, it can't ruddy well wait, it's a matter of life and death!"  
His raised voice attracted the knights like magnets. I nodded at Percival, who smirked at the sight of me huddled awkwardly under a ridiculously diminutive blanket.  
"Very well. What is it you want to ask of me?"  
"I want to know how we can defeat the Sidhe."  
I pricked my ears. Had our desperate situation finally sunk through the king's thick skull?  
Gaius paused, looking regretful.  
"I am afraid, sire, that it is impossible."  
"It can't be impossible! There must be _something_ we can do."  
I watched Gaius' face, and knew what was coming.  
"There _is_ something, but I doubt you'll like it."  
"Tell me, man."  
He spoke a single word.  
"Merlin."  
"No." The king answered immediately and without hesitation.  
"He is the only person powerful enough to do anything about them! They are full of ancient magic."  
"There must be another way, surely."  
"I'm afraid not, sire. Only Merlin can do what he has done many times before."  
"Don't be ridiculous, Gaius. Merlin has never helped this kingdom."  
The physician's eyes flashed, and he drew himself up to his full height. I braced myself.  
"If you had _any_ idea of how many times Merlin has saved your life, you would not take this so lightly."  
"What are you blabbering about?"  
I gaped at Arthur, and I was not the only one. Gaius continued frostily.  
"Under what circumstances was Merlin put in your service?"  
"After he pulled me away from a dagger," he admitted gruffly. "However, I fail to see what's so special about that."  
"The room woke up after the witch had been hit by a chandelier…"  
Arthur stared uncomprehendingly at the man. I listened closely, not having heard this before.  
"Don't you think it a bit odd, sire, that a chandelier _happened_ to fall on her when she was directly under it?"  
Arthur's eyes widened and his eyebrows knitted.  
"And that was only the first time. When he was poisoned, he sent you a light to guide you out of the cave. Yes, that was him."  
I watched Arthur rather than Gaius as the latter rattled off a long list. The sovereign was stunned.

"He defended himself and you in every battle. He discovered the truth about the monster hiding in the sewers. He willingly drank the poison in your place, and later defeated the witch Nimueh. He killed the griffin, he found out about the enchanted shield and revealed the truth to you in time, he defended Ealdor, he forged Excalibur, there was also the immortal army and—"  
"You're telling me that was _Merlin_?"  
"It always was, sire. I hate to say this, but you've never actually defeated an enemy on your own; it was your servant who managed to stop the attacks, forced to do it behind your back."  
I looked down guiltily in the quiet that followed. I felt ashamed of the small things I'd imagined him capable of. This news muddied my memory of Merlin, the skinny, anxious servant, and I braced myself for another onslaught of faith-weakening doubt. But I was miraculously free of them. Maybe I had just needed a good night's sleep after all.  
I heard a quiet whispering between Leon and Elyan, and the latter nodded. Percy grew tired of standing and plopped down onto my bed.  
Gaius resumed.  
"What I'm trying to say, sire, is that Merlin was the only real defense Camelot had, and, now that he's gone…"  
"We'll find something."  
"My lord, there is another matter I wish to discuss."  
Arthur turned back irritatedly.  
"Merlin has been poisoned. He is dying. I believe he is too ill to move, which is why he hasn't acted before."  
There were unhappy mutterings from those assembled. Arthur seemed slightly dazed, and eager to get away.  
"We… we will discuss it later. I… I need to think."  
Gaius watched helplessly as the king turned tail and ambled away haltingly. We stared after him until I cleared my throat.  
"Not to be an impolite host, but that _is_ my leg you're all sitting on."  
They got up and I sighed in relief. Blood resumed circulating, and I lay back, my muscles relaxing. Percival dragged Elyan to a corner and sat him down for some serious questioning, closely followed by Leon, but I turned to Gaius.  
"Will he be all right?"  
"The king will come round eventually, but I suppose you were talking about Merlin. He should hold out a bit longer, according to my calculations. I can only hope we make it in time."  
I looked around.  
"I could go now, steal Arthur's horse. I could make it before dawn."  
"No, Gwaine, you'd best stay until Arthur's made up his mind. He might choose well; destiny works in strange ways. Merlin is strong."  
I swallowed my frustration, calmed by his reassurance. I could hear it in his voice too, the rekindled faith, the absence of misgivings about the young servant. I considered my options until I dozed off again.

Night fell. Arthur publically apologised to Gwen, the usual lovey-dovey stuff, then retreated to a corner of the clearing, his face reflective.  
A while later, when Arthur was washed and dressed, he summoned the remaining knights and guards - and Gaius - for a meeting. We sat uncomfortably in a large ring around the fire, listening attentively.

"This is a safe, sheltered place, but we cannot stay here. There are too many of us. We have no means to support a lifestyle here, and I will not abandon Camelot."  
Unanimous agreement.  
"I've considered our options. We can search for a nearby village or town to stay in until we've recovered and massed our forces, or we can launch a counter-attack now."  
Sudden, ringing silence.  
"I understand your dismay. If we attack now, there is very little chance we will return. However, I am willing to give up my life for Camelot, and I hope you—"  
"What about the third option?"  
Arthur paused.  
"What do you mean, Sir Elyan?"  
"It's my understanding that Merlin has offered to protect us with his magic. It seems to me that the best course of—"  
"Elyan, I will say this again. Merlin is an enemy of Camelot, plotting against us. We shall not accept help from a sorcerer."  
"But sire, if the other choices are certain death—"  
"We don't _know_ that. We cannot allow an enemy to find us this vulnerable. If I find _any _of you seeking Merlin's help, I shall execute you personally."  
I refused to let this pass.  
"Arthur, be logical. We've already lost Camelot. We're injured, starving, homeless. We literally have nothing to lose."  
"But he would gain access to our plans and use—"  
I scoffed, and I was not the only one.  
"What _plans_? Arthur, we're alone and defenceless. Our plans are to hide or die. Anyone with half a brain could attack us now."  
His eyes flashed.  
"Gwaine, I am your king, much as you may wish otherwise, and if you speak to me in such a manner again, I will ensure that you are hanged and quartered."  
"By who? It's us left, Arthur. I don't see anyone agreeing to your proposal, do you?"  
He looked around. I ignored the urge to defend myself and Merlin, and waited for his answer. There was a long silence, long enough for the men to look up from their fixed examination of the fire, long enough for me to start hoping. Maybe he would stop this insanity and accept the facts. Maybe he would actually go to Merlin.  
He took a deep breath and started to speak.  
"I will never stoop to that level. I will _never_ accept help from _magic_. And if you continue this nonsense I will make you run for your life, and hunt you down like a dog. There is no chance I will change my mind. You are dismissed."  
I shook my head in slow anger. He had it coming.  
"Uth—Arthur." I corrected myself hastily, but the damage had been done. I saw the shocked expressions of the others, and flinched, expecting the sharp end of the sword to slice my face any moment. But Arthur didn't move. He sat there, looking even more surprised than earlier when he had fallen over.  
Silence reigned over the fire. When it became clear nothing else would be said, the guards drifted away, made nervous by Arthur's continued stillness. I didn't leave, and neither did the knights. We stared at the flames as they got lower and lower.  
Eventually a servant, accustomed to certain duties, came and dropped fresh logs on the embers. The sound jolted us out of our shared reverie.  
"You're right," he said, not looking up. "For Camelot."  
Those were the last words I had expected to come out of the king's mouth. The proud, arrogant man who never admitted his own mistakes if he could help it, was looking dismayed. He seemed a different man to the one who had so brashly ordered executions back in Camelot, just a few long days ago.  
He got up and left without saying a word. I took that as an opportunity to go to bed, still feeling tired after apparently having slept for two days straight.  
The silence was unusual. I fancied I could hear the sound of people breathing, talking, _laughing, footsteps on a wooden floor, coins dropping into a till, beer being poured, mugs being chinked, chairs being scraped backwards, the sound of an old piano starting up with an old tune, voices joining in, arguing, fighting, a door being swung open, a voice calling my name…  
_"Gwaine! Get up, you useless lout!"  
I blinked. I was once again in the clearing, sunlight stabbing my eyes, hunger twisting my stomach, facing my overweight king. I sighed.  
Over a painfully small breakfast, Arthur told us what was happening.  
"We ride out as soon as possible. We find the sorcerer using whatever enchantment he cast upon my horse. Then we get him to help us regain Camelot and our former glory."  
I beamed. This was nearly better than I could have hoped for. Elyan grinned happily beside me. Soon, so soon, everything would be over and I could finally have a beer. Beer…  
"Stop grinning like an idiot, Gwaine. We're not going for the reason you'd think. We're going to force him to help us. Torture him, if we need to."  
Those words, spoken so nonchalantly, dropped like a stone. I glanced to the right and to the left. The knights were as frozen as me. No. I had to make him see.  
"Arthur, Merlin is sick. Dying. He was hit with a Sidhe arrow when he was in Camelot. He will be dead soon, unless we help him."  
I leaned towards Arthur wordlessly, in an effort to make him understand. We couldn't hurt Merlin, not anymore. Not only was he full of strong magic, but Camelot would fall without him. We needed him.  
"All the better. We can bargain with him, have better leverage. I wouldn't want him to think he was stronger than us."  
The last words were said with a false bravado. This wasn't Arthur talking, this was Uther. Arthur was locked behind the regal mask, not trusting himself or his decisions.  
I left dramatically to consult with Gaius.  
"It's better than nothing, I suppose," said the physician. "At least you'll get there in time. But, Gwaine, you _must_ give him the antidote before Arthur captures him. Once he's well again you won't have to worry, nobody can come near him. But if he's caught while he's weak, we may lose him forever."  
I swallowed. This was more than what I usually carried as a burden. Normally I was expected to turn up, fight, and then leave, often with some beer on the side. But this time, I had a deadline to help the man who would save us all. I nodded, took a deep breath, and went to prepare my horse. As I was filling my waterskin, I saw Gaius put a small amphiole in my saddlebag, then turn around and wink at me. I nodded back.

The horses were saddled, watered, and fed as much as we could give them. The knights were packed up and Arthur had already mounted his horse, which had miraculously been one of the few to escape with us. It was a fine horse, really. Too bad Arthur had barely gone near it once Merlin had enchanted it.

We set off at midday, same as usual. This time, however, what we did at the destination would alter everything.  
We trotted forwards, pausing to rest the horses frequently. We were all glad of the breaks, most of us still tired and aching from the fighting. My attempts to hurry us along were half-hearted at best, and were instantly met with whole-hearted rebuffals. Soon, the afternoon sun slanting sideways through the trees, we came to a fork. Arthur let the horse have its head and we watched expectantly.

It meandered forward, stopped, and munched at a sapling.  
"How do you make this thing work?" asked the king, kicking his horse fruitlessly. It had stopped being so well-trained when it had realised that Arthur was the cause for all its suffering. "Maybe I need to say something. Er, go."  
Munch munch munch.  
"Forwards."  
I dismounted, sliding unsteadily to the ground. It was clear to me. I walked up to the horse's head and held its reins.  
"Merlin."  
It turned and trotted through the left-hand fork. There was nothing aimless about it now; it moved quickly, unhesitantly, completely ignoring the lumpy human on its back. I smiled as I urged my horse after them, watching Arthur fight his horse for control. This was a normal scene, or as normal as it could get without Merlin.  
We trotted on, the horses playing follow-my-leader. I watched the scenery around me change, wondering where Merlin lived, what he did now he was an outcast. Wait, he had always been an outcast. Oh.  
"We're nearly there now. Remember to be careful; we have no idea how powerful he is." Damn that pompous, ignorant fool. My guts twinged with dislike, then with hunger. I gripped the reins more tighter as we neared the place.  
I noticed immediately when the horses began to slow. I cast around desperately, and spotted a small, decrepit house attached to a ramshackle barn.  
I urged my horse before the others, cantering into the barn, ignoring the half-articulated shout behind me. Nothing there but a bare floor, covered with a large, ratty blanket. Merlin was staying here.  
I dismounted hurriedly and ran into the main house, darting around, ignoring Arthur's protests from outside. I glanced down. And froze.

What I was expecting, I have no idea. I had never in my wildest dreams pictured what I saw in there.  
Merlin had collapsed on the ground, deathly pale, huge bruises staining his eyes, his nose and mouth slowly dribbling blood, his hair caked in it, his bones showing painfully through his skin, his breathing hoarse and haggard, pain written in his agonized face, his clenched arms, the way he was curled in on himself, the way his hand was wrapped around the stick like he would never let go…  
I backed away in shame. Disgust. Fear. This was my fault. All my fault. I didn't get here in time. I hadn't prevented the unbearable agony he must have suffered, but I could still save him. Idiot, Gwaine, you've left the antidote in the saddlebag.  
I clapped a hand to my forehead and ran out the door, straight to my horse. And stopped. Because Arthur was casually picking the bottle out of my bag, like he'd known it was there all along.  
"Thought you were the only one with a pair of eyes, did you?"


	4. We Meet Merlin's Biggest Friend

I tried to take the antidote from him, but he knocked me easily to the ground and strode forwards into the house. I scrambled up and followed him. My heart thudded. I needed to save Merlin. I didn't give the knights a second thought. I saw only Arthur's back, unsuspecting, defenceless. I sprang to kill.  
I was grabbed, restrained, Percival's strong arms locking mine behind my back. I twisted and kicked, desperate to save Merlin, so close to managing it, and being prevented by my own friends. Arthur was kneeling down, inspecting his prisoner. Merlin, who looked like a skeleton. Merlin, who looked dead already. A heart-stopping thought. Was he?  
I bowed my head. I had failed. Tears came to my eyes. After everything we had all been through, after everything we had done, Merlin was dying. I was powerless.  
The silence finally reached me. I looked up, and saw Arthur standing frozen, staring at the servant crumpled up against the wall. Arthur's face was something else; he looked like he had finally found everything that had been missing. Uncertainty, relief, confusion, determination, grief, and a bit, yes, a bit of happiness.  
Time stood still. The range of conflicting emotions were clear on the king's face. I held my breath. But as we watched, an edge came to his face. He showed less happy and more resigned, more proud. He was coming to a decision. His hand neared the ropes coiled around his belt.  
Then Merlin opened his eyes.  
Those eyes, that peculiar light blue, the eyes I last saw on a dog, the eyes that I saw every day, in memory, in nightmare. The eyes that conveyed every emotion as clearly as a drop of water. Arthur's hands faltered. Dropped. Found the delicate bottle of clear green liquid. Uncorked it. Held the amphiole to Merlin's lips. Tipped it until it was empty.  
Percy let go of me. I drifted forwards without noticing it, unable to believe my eyes. The king turned and retreated to the corner of the room, his eyes shadowed.  
I dropped by my friend, pulling him up into a sitting position, checking his pulse anxiously. Even as I felt it, it grew stronger. It was working. I turned, beaming like an idiot. Elyan stepped forwards, his face as relieved as I felt. My attention was caught by Merlin sighing deeply. The sigh turned into a yawn, and as I watched, he blinked, stretched, consciously looked around.  
"What are you doing here?" he creaked, alarmed. He coughed, sat up straighter. He took in everything; the men lining the walls, the empty bottle on the floor beside him, the weakness of starvation showing in his whole body, the room he was in, the sunlight filtering in through the grimy window, the whinny of a horse coming from outside… in a second he saw it all and understood. And smiled, like he was the happiest person in the world.

A skeleton with Merlin's face stood in the centre of the kitchen. He was wrapped in as many blankets as we could find, yet still he was shivering. We gave him our water, and watched as he drank the smallest amount possible before politely handing it back.  
"No, no, I don't need much, I swear. I can keep going longer than most."  
His face was slightly ruddier than before, but he was still frighteningly sickly. He moved slowly and stiffly, lanky as ever. There was nothing much we could do for him here, apart from feeding him what little we could. It was remarkable how quickly he had taken his first steps, like he was a toddler all over again, and we were his doting parents, watching his every move in case he fell. Merlin was here, Merlin was real – not some shadowy, half-remembered figure from foggy days and dark nights – and he was the same he'd always been. He was there again, filling that space, holding us together. I'd been right all along. How could we doubt him?

Arthur spoke. I started, having forgotten he was here.  
"Tie him up, Leon."  
The atmosphere tautened again as the old friends faced each other. Another pause.  
"What are you talking about, sire?" asked Leon, his face shining with relief, relief that slowly dimmed as he recalled Arthur's current view on things.  
I looked back at Merlin anxiously, and he stood up slowly, his chin in the air.  
"That won't be necessary, my _lord_. I'll go willingly."  
"And how can we be certain you won't escape the second we turn our backs?" challenged the king.  
"You'll just have to trust me."

Arthur marshalled his former servant out the front door, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder. I shook my head, following Merlin's frail footsteps closely. The boy stood stock-still in the middle of the field, and whistled loudly and clearly. A call.  
The sound of a large object coming closer. Arthur spun around immediately, and I gripped my sword, picturing griffins, demons, _dragons_, my heart thudding nervously. I glanced quickly at Merlin, whose face was blank. I backed slowly away, slightly light-headed with sudden fear.  
Merlin's mare trotted elegantly out of the bushes, making directly for Merlin, completely ignoring us along the way, and buried her nose in Merlin's outstretched hand. I watched wide-eyed. That was one damn well-trained horse. How had he done it? The horse had received standard training in the official Camelot stud farm. What had happened between then and now? I was impressed, but I didn't say anything. The jovial mood had long faded.  
Merlin climbed on sluggishly, sitting bareback like it was the most natural thing in the world. I followed suit on my – thankfully saddled – horse, puzzling over the dramatic changes. Arthur mounted his nervous horse, and nodded at Merlin to go in front of him.  
I breathed a sigh of relief as we got going.  
It was done. He was safe. From sickness, at least. Arthur didn't look particularly forgiving, but he _had_ saved Merlin. Maybe he would come round, like Gaius said. We could but hope.

"How long have I been out?"  
"Well," I answered, a trifle self-importantly, relieved that the long silence had been broken. "It's been exactly two weeks and six days since you left, and since then we've lost Camelot."  
Merlin's eyes widened, incredulous.  
"That bad?"  
I nodded. The memory of those last days hung in the air before me, and I shifted queasily.  
"What forces does Morgana have?"  
I let the question hang before answering.  
"A thousand-strong army of soldiers from the north. A thousand-strong army of Sidhe from the south."  
Merlin paled further, and I regretted telling him. He needed to keep his strength up.  
"If the Sidhe have joined the fight, they must be certain of their victory. Morgana must have something she hasn't shown yet, some sort of secret weapon."  
"And how do you know that?" asked the king icily from the back of the convoy. "What lets you see things we cannot?"  
Merlin stiffened.  
"I know about the Sidhe. Gaius told me about their ways when we first encountered them."  
"When was that, sorcerer?"  
"In the first year I was here. The girl travelling with her father, who enchanted you and nearly killed you. Remember that?"  
Arthur didn't reply.  
"But what's been happening?"  
Leon took up the story eagerly, his eyes never leaving the skinny sorcerer, staring at him with a sort of awe.  
"We have taken refuge in a nearby forest. Gaius thought of it, actually. He's a captain of sorts, he's got us all organized down pat. The only thing we lack is food. Ah yes, I forgot to mention: all the crops of the kingdom have failed. Camelot is on its knees."  
Merlin was shocked again. The retelling of these events brought back some of their horror, and we rode on wordlessly for a while, until we were passing through yet another dark, clammy forest. The world was full of them.  
The king spoke up again, his voice sharp and carrying.  
"We'd better hurry. We don't want to get stuck here for the night."  
I snorted mentally. It was barely noon yet, and Princess here was getting scared of the dark.  
Then I noticed the unusual tilt of the shadows and realized it was indeed later than I'd thought. How much daylight did we have left? The thought made me urge my horse on a bit, and the others followed suit.

It really was getting darker. None of us admitted it, but we didn't want to stop. The clop of hooves didn't mask the constant, quiet rustling coming from all around us. Elyan slowed his horse, _very_ subtly, so Merlin could draw ahead and lead the way. The servant wasn't in the least bit afraid; he sat comfortably on the horse, taking it easy, slumping further and further down as if he were tired. Eventually, Arthur called a halt.  
"We'll have to stop here for the night."  
We were relieved and worried at the same time. We were exhausted, still strained from our last hours in Camelot and wearied from the ups and downs of the day. But who knew what lurked in the darkness around us, gnashing its teeth? I shivered from the mental image my imagination helpfully provided. Gee, thanks.  
Merlin set about without a word gathering firewood, producing a strong feeling of déja-vu, while the rest of us laid out our blankets and huddled against the cold. A great tiredness swept over me and weighted down my eyelids. I swayed. The gloom swaddled us completely. I heard Merlin return, and forced my eyes open.  
He saw us, and nervously tried to light the fire, but it wouldn't catch. He tried again, his movements more urgent, but the wood was sopping. Calm down, Merlin. It's just a fire. Yeesh. It was tiring, watching him struggle. So tiring…  
There was a muttered word, and a flame leapt up and grew. It wsa joined by others, and they merged, crackling merrily, driving the shadows back. I opened my eyes wide, suddenly very awake, my subconscious screaming at me that something was wrong. _Had_ _been_ wrong. But the danger had passed as suddenly as it had come. Arthur sat up abruptly and stared at Merlin angrily.  
"This forest… the shadows are dangerous. They send you to sleep," said the sorcerer, panting slightly.  
"And you think you can just practic magic right in front of my face? Watch yourself, sorcerer. I am your king, I spared your life, and you _will_ do as I say!"  
The king sat up, glaring belligerently.  
Merlin raised his eyebrows coldly. A large branch came whistling terrifyingly quickly past our heads, followed by rocks of various sizes, and finally a boulder. We all ducked for dear life, yet the objects remained a safe distance away as they swept past us. Throughout it all, Merlin's eyes never left the king.  
"Morgana has been getting stronger. But so have I."  
A resounding quiet, broken by the sound of the miscellaneous items crashing to the ground a long distance away. Merlin continued.  
"I'm not sorry that I told you. At least now you know."  
"I hope you're aware that I could have you executed with a single word!"  
"And I could take you apart with so much less than that."  
Merlin said the words mockingly, throwing them casually into the air. I didn't know what exactly that meant, but the king obviously did. He swallowed, not looking at us.  
"Besides, it's not like that was the first time I've saved you all without your noticing."  
Arthur shook himself.  
"I brought you here, sorcerer, and I command you to cease using magic unless I order you to! You are in my power here!"  
Merlin got up abruptly, holding his arms out challengingly.  
"Oh, _I'm_ in _your_ power now? Arthur, there is _nothing_ you can do to hurt me! Don't kid yourself into thinking you control me."  
Arthur stood up too, radiating anger.  
"Well if you're so _powerful_, why haven't you_**done anything**_?"  
The words were full of pain, heavy with accusation. I got up slowly, ready to jump in and break up a fight, should it come to it. On the other side of the small fire, Leon did the same, watching the king cautiously.  
Merlin's eyes flickered.  
"I wouldn't hurt you."  
I almost felt guilty for intruding on this. He looked at no-one but Arthur, talking only to him. Arthur looked grim, sweat darkening his hair, making it stick limply to his scalp. Merlin plunged on, dispelling the honesty on his face with one of purpose; this was business.  
"Now, what do you want me to do?"  
"I'm sorry?"  
"I know you, Arthur. You wouldn't come find me just to make up. You've come here for a reason."  
Arthur stared into the diminutive fire. I willed him to swallow his pride and tell Merlin what was going on. Then his expression changed, and he did.  
"Morgana's forces have won Camelot."  
Merlin's expression didn't change. He was focused, waiting.  
"We may… we need your help to drive them back, until we gather our army again. Can you do that?"  
"I can do that, and much more."  
"How?"  
Merlin considered.  
"I suppose I could call Kilgarrah, the Great Dragon. He can kill any human soldiers. But they're not alone, are they? I'll have to think of a way to convince the Sidhe."  
Hearing him talk so matter-of-factly of magic drove it home. This was a different Merlin to the one I knew, one that inspired respect. Arthur scowled.  
Merlin was a sorcerer; in the rush and tumble of the day, I'd forgotten about it. And here lay the answer to our problems, and the cause. Magic.  
"What can you do?" asked the king quietly. His bravado was gone, replaced by unwilling acceptance. This went beyond the two of them; this was for the good of the kingdom.  
"Lots. I don't know the extent of it yet, I'm still learning."  
"And when did you start? When you came to Camelot?" His tone had an edge to it.  
"I was born like this."  
I remembered Gaius saying the same thing. I'd never heard of that happening before. But why shouldn't it? I leaned forward with a question of my own.  
"You can change your appearance?"  
Merlin nodded, looking surprised at my interest. I ignored Arthur's glare, and waited for an answer.  
"I can transform into animals, with enough preparation, though the spell wears off soon. I can age myself; that's how I became Dragoon."  
Arthur winced.  
"That's one thing I can't understand, Merlin. If you've done so much for me, why would you…" His voice broke with pain.  
"I _didn't kill Uther_. I did a simple spell that would have worked, you saw it working. But did you see a necklace on your father, that night?"  
Arthur inclined his head stiffly. The scene must have haunted him.  
"Agravaine must have put it on him, it was enchanted by Morgana. It made the spell reverse, do the opposite of what it was meant to do. There was nothing anyone could have done."  
Merlin was unsure of himself at the last sentence, and it sounded like he blamed himself. His voice dropped.  
"But I should have paid attention, I should have noticed, I should have done something…"  
"Stop. This no longer has anything to do with you, sorcerer."  
Merlin started to protest but the king held out his hand in a familiar gesture for silence. The Hand of Doom, as I called it.  
"We ride out at dawn, get back to camp, and plan our next move there. For now, we'll rest. Leon, Percival, you're on sentry duty. Elyan and I will relieve you at midnight. Keep your eyes peeled, we don't know what can be out there."  
"Oh, don't worry, nothing will attack us here."  
Merlin sounded so confident that I believed him. He proceeded to lie down and fall into a deep sleep, relaxing his body immensely so he sprawled singificantly lower into the ground. Even now, now that we knew what he was, he was careful, guarded at all times.  
The king didn't blink the whole night, staring fixedly across at Merlin, seeming almost afraid to look away lest the sorcerer disappeared.  
I woke up at five-minute intervals, starting at every noise in the forest, which were more often than not Merlin's unusual snores. Dawn rolled around much too soon for my liking, but as I fell asleep immediately after that thought, I couldn't really work up the necessary frustration.

I sat up slowly, achingly. All the pain I hadn't experienced decided to have a house-warming party in my body. I rolled my neck and pushed the hair out of my eyes. The first thing my bleary eyes focused on was Merlin, sitting up against a nearby oak, munching enthusiastically on a purply-red leaf. I staggered over to him, sliding down the trunk and hitting the ground too hard for my tender rump.  
He held out a leaf and I bewilderdly accepted it. Merlin looked across at me and cracked up laughing.  
"It's a fulmon leaf," he said through his chortles. "Gaius uses it when we're low on food. Sorry, but you looked so…"  
He twitched, then gave up the fight and fell about again. I watched him silently, completely bemused. Looking for something to do, I tentatively nibbled the edge off the leaf and braced myself.  
And was unimpressed by the rather dull taste of the vegetation on my hand. It was mostly water, apparently. A bit metallic, slightly salted, but not bad. I had some more, feeling like a horse grazing. Come to think of it, what about the horses? I craned my neck to look for them, and saw my own horse pawing the ground, looking pointedly in my direction. I heaved a sigh and heaved myself standing, strolling – with better balance now – over to where the royal steeds were tied, hearing Merlin crashing through the undergrowth behind me. Not much had changed in that area, apparently. He was still a complete elephant the second we needed some silence.

I fed my horse the remainder of the fulmon leaf, feeling guilty as the other horses whinnied hungrily. Merlin's mare was standing among them, untied but placid. Merlin petted her nose comfortingly, and disappeared into the trees. I looked back at the knights.  
They were all conked out, drooling, most of them. I glanced back at the direction Merlin had taken, wondering despite myself if he was coming back. And knowing my luck, Arthur would wake up right about now, and yell lengthily at me for letting our prisoner escape.  
What should I do? Should I call after him? Chase him? We were much closer to the men now, and they would hear us. Me. Where _was_ he?  
I craned my neck, worried. I had just made up my mind to wake Elyan to cover me while I looked for Merlin, when the boy reappeared, his arms encircling a gigantic bunch of fulmon leaves. I breathed a sigh of relief, and controlled my expression. But not before he read it and winced.  
Guilt seared me, and I spoke up quickly, eager to divert his attention from my face.  
"Should we wake the others up?"  
Merlin nodded, his mouth twisted to one side in a half-grimace.  
"You should say you were awake the whole night, so they won't suspect me of anything."  
I frowned.  
"They won't think that, Merlin."  
He raised his eyebrows at me, and I shut up. Point taken. Wow, poor Merlin. Yeesh.  
"Here goes," I said, reaching out to poke Leon. "From here onwards, life is a bitch."

And for the rest of the day, neither of us said a word to each other, meeting each other's gaze occasionally when something interesting happened, like when Leon got stuck in his saddle and dangled upside-down when he tried to dismount, and when Arthur cracked his first smile in weeks after a butterfly landed on Percy's nose and made him topple off his horse. The day progressed slowly, and we all relaxed as we drew nearer the camp. I noticed Merlin sitting up stiffly, and caught a glimpse of his tense expression. His moment was approaching.  
I willed him luck, and turned my attention to the knights. Leon certainly looked optimistic; he still regarded Merlin with a strange kind of admiration, and managed to chat freely with him. Elyan seemed happy too; he had known about Merlin, and they had been friends for years. Percy was a bit withdrawn and uncertain, but he had started to look vaguely happier too, once Merlin had fed us up on the reddish leaves. Food had always been one of Percival's main concerns.  
Arthur… was another matter. He was flat-out suspicious of Merlin, and refused Merlin's food, eating from his own mouldy rations. I shook my head at his back, remembering the old king, the good king, the Princess, the warrior, the arrogant prat. When Merlin had left, he had changed completely. Talk about a one-eighty; I barely recognised him these days. He was drawn, haggard. The mouldy food probably wasn't helping. But there was a darkness in his eyes, something that was uncomfortably close to Uther's old ways. I made a mental note to round up the knights and beat some sense into him if he tried to do another Purge.

We trotted through an open valley, a route I had taken years ago, before the mess with Morgana had even happened. I used to pop in and out of Camelot, visiting the pubs and all they had to offer. I smiled at the sight of a flat boulder a distance away, where I had once spent a night too drunk to move. We finally reached the large forest we had left yesterday, and Arthur broke into a trot, eager to be back. Merlin didn't look happy. I directed my horse towards his, and leaned over to ask him what was wrong  
Then his mare screamed a long, loud whinny, and bolted forwards. Merlin plunged backwards and nearly fell off, but I couldn't concentrate on him, owing to the huge cloud of horribly familiar dragonflies bearing down on us.  
The horses panicked, having endured the dragonflies' stings for days on end back in Camelot. They reared and kicked, running mindlessly in all directions, heedless of our shouts. I clung on, so close to sliding off, so close to being trampled to mulch. I gripped tighter, pulling on the horse's head with all my might, but the frightened animals had regrouped and formed a terrified herd, stampeding away from the dreaded insects.  
Through the swathes of wings now among us, I saw Merlin's mare charge into the center of us, pushing the other horses and taking the lead. Great flashes of light emerged from somewhere in front of us, and I tried to blink the after-image away, batting at the legs and wings of the huge dragonflies, feeling time and time again their stings. I hit out at one, watching my arm stretch out too far, too forcefully. I felt myself tipping slowly, so slowly sideways, a process that sped up considerably as the horses turned as one and ran in another direction. I met the ground with a thud, curling up into a ball at the pain needling my neck, my head. I felt like I could barely move, the dragonflies crawling over every inch of me, stinging, stinging. I dimly heard a yell of anger, and felt a strong breeze, some wind, that grew stronger and stronger until it blasted at my eyes and extremities. There was more terrified neighing, and shouts of fear.  
Then the wind dropped, and I slowly noticed the absence of legs crawling all over me. They were gone.  
But it wasn't over yet. The horses, galloping blindly, fresh wounds bleeding, fell apart and charged in all directions. I could see one out of the corner of my eye, nearing me, an unconscious Percival on its back.  
My fuzzy concentration picked up more movement. A dark-haired man jumping off a horse and standing in the path of two more horses, calmly holding out a hand and saying something I couldn't make out.  
Time slowed. I could only watch, stuck in slow motion, as Percy's horse drew closer and closer. Then a hum pulsated through the air, and the horse slowed. Slowed further. Fell into a trot, then a walk. The other horses did the same. I sank down into darkness, convinced I was hallucinating from the stings.

I opened my eyes again. Barely a minute had passed, but the scene had changed. I could make out a tangle of dead insects at the foot of an ancient oak tree, the remainder of the dreaded dragonflies. The horses were gathered in a knot around the mare, sweating and trembling. Merlin was holding me up, a smile of relief on his face, and behind him was Arthur, yelling angrily, his skin red and blotchy. I blinked. There was no sound. I blinked again, and I could hear a faint buzz in one ear. The buzz grew louder and louder, but I could hear nothing else.  
My brain suddenly woke up and started panicking. I looked around wildly, and saw Leon and Elyan in the background, gathered around an unmoving Percy. My heart thudded and I forced myself to calm down. There were a few echoes coming through my ears now.  
Merlin frowned and turned back, facing Arthur, who strode up and towered over us, still giving out at Merlin. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and sat up, the ringing in my left ear gradually being replaced by insults.  
"—you stupid, idiotic, bumbling fool, you could have killed us all! Whatever gave you the idea to try to stop a damn stampede? You're lucky you're not dead!"  
"It was either to save us all or die trying."  
Merlin's calm voice put Arthur off balance. The king breathed heavily, looking from the sorcerer's face to the others'. I groaned, the shock of the last few minutes catching up to me.  
Arthur's gaze snapped to me, concerned. Merlin leaned forwards again, examining the back of my head.  
"He's hit badly. I think he's gone deaf. Can you hear me, Gwaine?"  
I nodded and winced from the pain. I lay back, eyes watering.  
"This is bad. I think he has internal bleeding. He could be dead within minutes."  
Merlin seemed to be asking the king a question. I closed my eyes, almost passing out again from the agony. I was vaguely aware of Arthur moving away, and Merlin sighed.  
"Gwaine, you're dying. Do you trust me?"  
I knew what he was going to do. And as I was about to agree whole-heartedly, but something stopped me. Magic. I'd always been half-curious, half-scared when it came to magic. Back in Idelaigh, my hometown, magic was viewed as a curse, and sorcerers weren't trusted.  
I focused my thoughts, and concentrated on Merlin. My only real friend. He spoke again.  
"Gwaine, I need to help you."  
I forced my eyes open and gritted my teeth.  
"Do it."

I felt a warm hand on the back of my head, heard a muttered spell, and fastened my eyes shut. I didn't want my last scene on this earth to be of Merlin's nostrils, however amusingly flared they could be.  
Then the back of my eyelids lightened as light shone, and I felt a coldness in my head. My heartbeat increased and I started sweating. For a moment, nothing happened.  
Then I could feel skin and bone meet and meld, and the pain was so severe I gasped. The coldness increased swiftly then faded to warmth. Normal warmth. Regular warmth. The warmth I'd never appreciated before. The warmth of uninterrupted blood vessels flowing through my scalp.  
But the pain was still gnawing at me. I opened my eyes again, and saw Merlin's taut jaw. He met my eyes and reached around the back of my head again, and I felt the throbbing fade as the ache was drawn out. I heaved a huge sigh of relief, and sat up slowly. Nothing.  
I looked around, expecting at any moment the sharp smack of pain to pin me down again, but it was actually, unusually gone. Did Merlin do that? _How?_  
I twisted around just in time to see Merlin throw something shimmery into the air, and I watched as it crashed into a pile of pebbles and flung them in different directions.  
Arthur had seen it too.  
"What was _that_?"  
Merlin sat back with a sigh, looking quite smug.  
"Gwaine's pain. I had to get rid of it."  
I opened my eyes wide. This was mind-blowing. And here I was, thinking all magic was was a scary word and a meaningful look. Leon stood up, his expression clearly stating he had heard everything. Arthur was impassive, but I caught a flicker of bafflement as he turned away.  
I felt the back of my head carefully. My hair was soaked in blood, as was the ground, but the skin was smooth once more. I looked at my arms; they looked normal. Not covered in bloodied stings, as they had been a moment ago.  
I stood up and hugged Merlin, gripping his back as I fully comprehended how close I had come to death. His surprised laugh echoed through the trees.

I glanced across at Percival, watching him as he climbed shakily onto his horse. He had hit an overhanging branch, and there was a small graze across his forehead, one that didn't in any way resemble the bloody mess it had been half an hour ago. Leon kept shaking his head in disbelief, and Elyan was grinning away. I shared the feeling. If Merlin could do that, we were basically invincible, as invincible as Leon. We could fight anyone, and come out in nearly one piece. I began to understand how Merlin had survived so long.

We reached the camp before sunset. Across the clearing, Gaius stood up, stunned. Gwen ran towards us, almost crying with relief, and the guards escorted us forwards. The whole thing had an air of unreality about it; we had left the real world behind us these past few days.  
"My boy!" called Gaius, hobbling towards us.  
Merlin dismounted and ran towards him, grinning. I was distracted from their affectionate hug by the sight of Arthur kissing Gwen with a fervour. I met Elyan's gaze and we rolled our eyes at each other, smiling slightly nevertheless. I dismounted stiffly and led my horse to the last remaining patch of greenery, watching enviously as it tore hungrily at the grass.  
I pulled off its saddle, for the first time in days, and rubbed it down. My horse huffed with pleasure, and I grinned to myself. We all needed a rest.  
I had a nap for the remainder of the day, and woke up when the big fire was lit that evening. I noticed for the first time the lack of bustle about the place, and realised there were a lot less people than there had been before. I sat cross-legged at the fire, swaddled in as many blankets as I could find, and was forced to give one up for Arthur to sit on, to protect the royal behind.  
Everyone else gradually gravitated to the big fire, and we were joined by everyone who really knew what was going on: Gaius, Elyan, Leon, Percy, Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, Tristan, yours truly, and a few of the more loyal newbie knights.

The discussion started. Gaius told us about how most of their fellow refugees had migrated to the bigger camps in search of food. Gwen said they had stayed here so that we could find our way back to them easily. Arthur informed them of our little adventure, not including Merlin's brilliant healing magic, or his own feelings on Merlin's 'treachery.' Merlin cheered them all up by producing the handfuls of fulmon leaves, which we decided to save for the morning.  
Then we turned to the topic of Camelot. Here, we mostly sat in silence, listening to Arthur rant about bravery, loyalty and certain death. Then, when the subject of allegiance to Camelot despite our demise had been concluded, Arthur fell silent, and we turned as one to Merlin, the only plan we had left.  
He looked up from his examination of the flames, and started talking.  
"I've thought about what we can do. I can clear the city of the dragonflies, but the best way to deal with the warriors is to summon the Great Dragon. Then we'll have to face Morgana. She doesn't know I have magic; maybe we can use that to our advantage. I will need," he said, staring hard at Arthur, "to talk to Kilgarrah before the final battle. Tonight."  
Arthur nodded once, his expression grim. Merlin resumed.  
"I will call a wind to clear the city before the actual fighting. It will be dangerous, so you must stay out of my way until the fighting. Then Kilgarrah can help us defeat the foot-soldiers, until we get to the castle. Morgana will have a secret weapon, but I can probably defeat it. Are there any problems?"  
I felt a ridiculous urge to put up my hand, but I smothered it. This was serious. Instead, I sat up straighter.  
"Will you need help?"  
"Yes. I can't see all around me at once, and I'll be glad of anyone who wants to help."  
Gaius leaned forwards.  
"And I can brew up antidotes and remedies from here, to protect against the Sidhe arrows. I'm afraid I can't guarantee enough for everyone."  
Arthur took control again.  
"Merlin, I will of course be guarding you. You are here by my request. Don't do anything stupid."  
"Do I ever?" asked the warlock impishly, but the king didn't smile back.  
"Well, I think that's enough for one night. You should all rest as much as possible; you have a big day tomorrow."  
I grinned at Gaius, grateful for this comforting, if condescending advice. Merlin stood up and walked away, looking serious. I found myself in my usual mood before a battle; cheerful. I traced his footsteps to their source, and found him sitting in a dark corner of the clearing, people-watching. He saw me coming, and smiled absent-mindedly at me.  
I plopped down next to him, gazing out at the small clearing. Everyone was going to bed, apart from the usual gang.  
We let them wander aimlessly looking for us for a good ten minutes, then we got up and went to meet them.  
Arthur looked relieved as he spotted us, and Leon immediately asked the obvious question.  
"Where are you going to do it?"  
"I need to find a clearing. He'll probably be looking for me anyway."  
We set off and trekked for about an hour, spreading out so we could find a good spot. Eventually, I heard a quiet 'Here' from Percy.  
We regrouped in silence. This forest at night inspired apprehension, and the thought of our mission didn't help. I found myself imagining what this huge dragon would look like. I hadn't heard much about it from Leon, but I got the impression that it would have destroyed Camelot if it had felt so inclined. I started to long for more cover, feeling very exposed in the wide clearing.  
Merlin turned to face us, looking serious.  
"You mustn't attack him. He could kill you all easily. He killed a dozen knights with a breath, three years ago. Just… don't say anything."  
We nodded silently. Despite his warning, I gripped my sword in its scabbard. I was irrationally terrified; standing nearly alone, practically defenceless, waiting for a monstrous magical creature to find us in the dark. My knees shook slightly, and the knights drew closer together. Arthur stayed behind the servant.

Merlin stepped forwards, spread out his arms and began to intone in a wild, harsh tone. I shivered as the words rang in the silence. I waited, rubbing elbows with Elyan, shrinking an inch at a time away from the clearing.  
Then came a loud swish of wingbeats. I trembled openly as I saw a massive shape breaking through the clouds. A gigantic dragon came swooping swiftly past us and banked sharply before landing with a thud. It crouched in the middle of the clearing, spreading its wings impossibly wide before folding them at its sides. I saw an oddly human expression on its face: joy.  
"Merlin!" it roared, and I leaned back further.  
"Kilgarrah."  
"I was worried about you, Merlin," it said, stepping closer and executing what appeared to be a regal bow. "What is it you wish to ask of me?"  
It sniffed the air as it said this, and suddenly it froze. Its head snapped around and faced us, seeing us through the darkness. I could see its eyes in the gloom: gold, like Merlin's when he performed magic.  
The dragon sighed a long, creaking breath.  
"I knew this day would come. Arthur knows. How did he find out, young warlock?"  
"I told him."  
Merlin's voice was heavy, and the dragon could hear it. Its eyes found Arthur again, pinning him under their scrutiny.  
"This is the man I last saw lying unconscious on the ground. You have grown, Arthur Pendragon."  
Arthur unsheathed his sword. I saw Merlin glance at him, then back at the dragon. He looked almost… amused. Then the king's sword turned into a twig.  
"Your weapons are useless against me, human. Now, I take it you didn't take the news well."  
Its tone was light, slightly mocking.  
"Dragon, I command you to fight for us in the battle." I marvelled at the king's bravery. How was he not cowering in fear like the rest of us?  
"Oh, do you now? Merlin, what do you say I should do to him? I hear frogs are a popular choice."  
Merlin cracked a smile.  
"No, I don't think so somehow. Doesn't suit him."  
The dragon chuckled deeply as Arthur flushed. It turned from the distressed king to Merlin, whom he regarded with obvious respect.  
"You need my help with something," he reminded.  
Merlin nodded grimly.  
"Tomorrow we will fight the final battle for Camelot. I will use my magic, but there are thousands of soldiers, and I cannot defeat them all."  
"Hmm. You ask me to kill thousands of innocents?"  
"I wouldn't if I had any other choice."  
There was a pause.  
"Very well. I will come when you call. But know that I do not do so happily."  
"I know, and I'm sorry."  
"I will do what I must. Are you certain you can manage the rest?"  
Merlin scoffed indignantly.  
"Are you calling me weak?" he said teasingly.  
"No," replied the dragon. "No, I most certainly am not."  
And it said it in such a way that I knew it believed its words.  
"I must leave you now, Merlin. I have much to prepare."  
"What do you mean?"  
The dragon said nothing, but started to beat its immense wings, stirring leaves across the entire clearing.  
"I wish you all luck with the battle tomorrow. I doubt we'll get a chance to talk."  
It rose rapidly, and as it made a final swooping pass I could have sworn I heard it say "Perhaps Aithusa could help in some way."  
It rose into the clouds and disappeared from view. I wheezed in relief, and I was not the only one. Something about a creature that powerful just made me want to use the bathroom. That was officially the most terrifying encounter I'd ever had, and I was very experienced in that particular field.  
I noticed Arthur wobble slightly, his knees knocking. Merlin looked back at us, smirking slightly, but his mind elsewhere.  
"Shall we go?" I ventured shakily. I ambled away, making for the cover of the trees.  
"Gwaine?" called Merlin. I turned back unwillingly.  
"It's_ that_ way."


	5. The Calm Before The Shit Storm

**A/N:**** Guys, I'm going somewhere with all this. Thanks for the support!**

* * *

We made it back to the camp without any further incident, though we all slipped away one by one to answer the call of nature. Merlin just plodded on, guiding us absent-mindedly, mentally a long distance away.

Arthur poked his sword meaningfully. Well, stick. Merlin waved a hand over his shoulder, and I heard a clang as metal hit the ground. Arthur picked up his sword, glowering in embarrassment. Nobody paid him any attention, though. We were all wrapped up in our separate worlds. We got back to the camp and spread out without saying another word. Arthur in particular looked ashen, and kept glancing at the sky expectantly.

I woke up unusually early, noticing before anything else Merlin's empty bed. I raised an eyebrow at Gaius, who was prodding a kettle, and he answered my unspoken question by jabbing a thumb in the direction of the clearing from last night. I lost no time in following Merlin's tracks.  
I walked for a few minutes, working out the kinks and aches that were routine in a knight's life. I kept to a faint path that headed more or less in the right direction.  
I stopped short. Had I heard something?  
"_Gwaine_."  
There it was again. I drew my sword and crept closer. The sound was coming from above me. By the time I'd twigged that the unknown threat was up a tree, an acorn had dropped with extreme accuracy on the exact centre of the top of my head. I glared up, scowling in pain, at the familiar goofy smile that Merlin always wore when he was having fun.

"Glad you're enjoying yourself," I muttered, clambering laboriously up to the branch below the sorcerer. "Although how you can be so horribly happy in the mornings is beyond me."  
He laughed quietly. I lay back and watched the leaves above me dance for a few minutes. Then I had to ask.  
"So… what are we doing up here?"  
Merlin sighed and looked down at me.  
"I haven't been completely honest with you," he started. "There's something else you should know, which I'd appreciate being kept a secret from Arthur."  
I braced myself.  
"You remember that temple which had been locked for 400 years?"  
I nodded, seeing what was coming.  
"Remember how I _said_ the dragon egg had been destroyed with the tower?"  
I grimaced.  
"Aithusa is a white dragonling, with the power to restore lives, among other things."  
I opened my eyes wide. Was that even possible? Did this mean there were _two_ dragons alive now?  
"I see why you wouldn't want Arthur to know," I mentioned. "He apparently doesn't take kindly to surprises."  
Merlin flopped back onto his branch.  
"I know. But the problem is, I don't know where Aithusa is. Kilgarrah hasn't been able to find him, and he won't answer my call."  
I could see his concern. Who knew what a young dragon could do? And if it couldn't be controlled, either something had happened to it or it was resisting its commands. Either way, how would you find out? This was something Arthur _definitely_ wouldn't want to hear.  
"I see the problem."  
A long, peaceful pause. Then I remembered what day it was.  
"Good luck with the fight today, Merlin."  
"…Thanks. Oh, you too."  
Nothing more was said, and I drifted off for a bit, still not totally awake…until a goldfinch chirped loudly directly above us. Merlin sat bolt upright, and I did the same, at a more measured pace, stretching achingly.  
"That's the signal. Arthur's awake."  
Oh. I jumped off the branch, landing with a thud and a grunt. We set off immediately, arriving at the clearing just as Arthur emerged from the now-empty, now-commandeered hut previously reserved for food. He stretched and blinked, catching sight of Merlin and lifting a hand in greeting before remembering himself and turning away. I glanced over at the young sorcerer, hoping he hadn't noticed, but he had. He noticed everything.

Breakfast was more filling than normal. The fulmon leaves tasted much better when you had nothing else on offer. They were strangely satisfying. It meant hell for the nearest toilet, though.  
We set off, for the final time, immediately after breakfast. A messenger had left the night before to the other camps, and had returned with 100 men and their swords. It made for a very close-knit march.

We all felt the same tension. No-one spoke. Butterflies made full use of the flying-space in my stomach, and Elyan dropped behind with the sheer amount of toilet breaks he made. Merlin was paler than I'd ever seen him. I gulped as I remembered what had happened last time Morgana had taken over; fighting for my life, for Gaius' and Elyan's; for our dinner; any slip-up meant all of our deaths. The innocent people who were killed in an effort to make the knights submit. The starvation and fear in the air. But this time, it was different. This time, we had an invaluable asset we could use freely.  
Soon, much, much too soon, we reached the edge of the forest.

The walls of Camelot shone through the trees, glowing in the light of dawn. A gallows had been built in a clearing at the foot of the castle, and I saw Merlin spot it and grit his teeth. I was struck by a feeling of stillness. The next movements, the next words spoken would acknowledge the event facing us. This was our last chance to turn back.  
Arthur dismounted and drew his sword. Well, he would, wouldn't he? Ruin the moment for everyone, he did.  
"Now, we fight."  
Well, _duh_. I once again mentally applauded the king for his ability to state the gob-smackingly obvious.  
"Soldiers, you will draw back and wait with the horses behind the tree-line. I will guard the sorcerer and summon you when we begin the final charge. Are we clear?"

Merlin stared at him anxiously.  
"Arthur, I told you, it isn't safe."  
Arthur dropped his voice and stalked closer, his glare a sharper extension of his sword.  
"You _will_follow my orders. You're going to do…whatever it is you're going to do, and I'll be there, making sure you don't run off and tell Morgana everything she wants to know."

Merlin shook his head in exasperation. I moved forwards and opened my mouth to complain, stopping when Arthur did the Hand of Doom, cutting my words short.  
"Prepare for battle."  
Then he motioned Merlin angrily forwards, urging his horse on. I turned to Leon for support, but he was doing his thing of listening to the king's orders and following them with a fervour that threatened violence to anyone who even mentioned the invariable flaw in the plan. He turned to the line of soldiers bearing the crest of Camelot.  
"Spread out! Stay behind the tree-line until the signal!"  
The soldiers complied. I caught up with Arthur and the knights, making sure my horse was between his and Merlin's. This was the deciding moment. For everyone.

Merlin dismounted, his jaw taut in concentration. I stared at his profile, steeling myself for what was coming. There was a pause while Merlin stood motionless, staring out at the towers of the castle. I silently willed him courage. This was in his hands now.

Then the warlock stepped forwards and raised his arms. He chanted strongly, and the sound echoed through the silent city. His pitch rose, and I felt a stirring behind me that I didn't dare look at. He kept going, and the rustling grew stronger until I finally took a peek.

A shimmer was hovering serenely above the ground, hugely tall and immensely wide. It undulated slightly, floating weightlessly, casting no shadow, visible only because of the constant movement rippling throughout the entire body. The winds had come at Merlin's command, ready to do his bidding. It was beautiful.

Then Merlin thrust his hands in front of him. The wind rushed immediately past us, knifing like an arrow at the centre of Camelot. It gathered speed and might as it went, and even the relatively weak wind that had passed us was enough to pressure my lungs and make us all gasp for breath.  
We watched from the hilltop as the gigantic wave of solid air slammed into the city, filling almost immediately with dirt and debris but losing none of its power, as smooth and sinuous as a snake. It ripped through each and every street, separating and fusing easily and instantaneously, pounding at the rooftops and windows, seeking out every corner, and finally merging into a river and speeding away, carrying a thick cloud of objects too small to see as it vanished in the distance.

Merlin dropped his hands, his shoulders relaxing, and I knew the wind had stopped. I stared in awe at the devastation it had caused as the warning-bell tolled its alert and the streets filled with the black-clad soldiers of Morgana.

Merlin turned back to us, his face flushed and triumphant.  
"Now's the perfect time to strike. Now, when they're panicking. But I need to disguise myself from Morgana."  
Arthur glared at him as we realized what he meant. He was going to turn himself into that horrible old man, Emrys, and even I wasn't too happy with that suggestion. It was much easier to fear magic when it came in the form of a bent, spiteful, twisted little man.  
"And how do I know you won't lead us into a trap?"  
Merlin scowled.  
"Look, if I wanted to sabotage you, I could have done so hours ago, days ago! Why would I betray you now?"

Arthur still looked doubtful.  
I almost ripped my hair out in frustration. What the hell was the matter with him? He had been halfway tolerable beforehand, but he seemed to be getting worse the closer he got to Camelot. I was getting more impatient too. Camelot was so close, and its safety was being jeopardised because of some petty feud.  
There was a long, tense moment, before Arthur finally nodded. Merlin twisted around on his horse and pulled a long red cloak out of a pocket. I watched as he tugged it over his head. He looked pretty ridiculous, like a child playing at dressing up.

He muttered some words, and I watched closely as his eyes flashed that particular shade of gold. His face seemed to melt, growing wrinkle upon wrinkle, his nose went crooked, and white hair sprouted from every orifice. There was Emrys. He sat up straight, radiating power. I couldn't fully comprehend that Merlin and Emrys were one and the same, but before I could wrap my head around it, Arthur unsheathed his sword in a clear signal, tearing his disgusted attention away from Emrys – I mean Merlin.

I sighed in relief and spurred on my horse, falling into place behind the royal steed and the bareback mare. We drew our swords as one, the screech of the metal lost in the pounding of hooves, joined by the sprinting soldiers, aiming for a small formation of bad guys in front of the gate. I adjusted the angle of my blade until it was perfectly positioned for anyone unlucky enough to be passing by. This was going to be fun.  
Then the enemies were blown apart. They clattered to the ground, heads limp and lolling. There was a shout of surprise from the knights around me, but the horses followed Merlin's mare and jumped over the bodies. It must have been magic, and the thought clenched my stomach strangely. Time slowed down as I turned my head accusingly and saw Merlin jolt backwards as we ran into the city boundaries. He physically shook, and his face turned pale. Entering Camelot must have done something to him. I pushed away the muttering doubts and focused on staying alive.

We charged on, through the main street and into the courtyard.

Where even the overexcited horses had to stop as we were faced with an army that filled all the available space: the courtyard, the surrounding streets, the houses, the windows, the castle walls, all drawing out swords, lances, crossbows, a sea of weapons pointed in our direction. The sheer number of them overwhelmed our eyes. I reined my horse around in desperation, looking for an escape, but they had closed all exits. Oh, god. Oh my god.

I didn't hear Emrys, I mean Merlin, say a word, but a familiar, terror-inspiring wingbeat made me look up as the Great Dragon swept into view, opening its mouth and releasing a torrent of flames, aiming them at the centre of the courtyard as they tore apart the army, eating through them in seconds, sticking to cobbles, swords, skin… The screaming rose to a pitch I'd never encountered before, as one by one they were snuffed out, unable to escape.

The dragon dripped fire along the streets, leaving no survivors, the heat making the stone glow red-hot. The wings, the flames, the screams and clatters of the dying obscured all other sound. I tried to calm my horse down, and came terrifyingly close to smashing my skull as it bucked and pranced. Then the dragon flew out of sight, the yelling stopped and the crackling of the fire quietened. We were faced with a newly-emptied courtyard, and I took care not to look too closely at the shrivelled forms scattered throughout it. I dismounted, severely shaken, my knees trembling. My horse was in the exact same state. Good horse. The amount it put up with.

There was a pause, while we looked around and no one really knew what to do. My eyes roved the square, noticing for the first time the broken windows, ruined walls and vile graffiti that adorned the surrounding buildings. This had nothing to do with the dragon; the walls themselves leaked desolation. I twisted around, trying to ignore the smell of burning flesh, and froze when I saw an ominous lack of bulkiness.

I took a deep breath, and concentrated. Was this the right place? The buildings on either side were horribly familiar. It couldn't be, it just couldn't. The pub was gone.

It was just gone. There was an achingly obvious gap which should have been filled. My pub, my inn, my _home_…was gone.

I felt a fury rising, rising and rising and peaking and rising and boiling over, spilling and seething and crackling like the flames. My _pub _, you bastards! I let out a wordless yell and shoved violently past the terrified soldiers, murder on my face. I didn't care if nobody followed me, I was going to get the bastards who destroyed my _pub_.

The entire army slowly gathered its wits and followed my lead, but I barely noticed. Morgana was behind this, but I would settle for anyone just now. Like the head of the guard, or the new council elder. I wanted to see _blood_. They would _pay_.

I smacked against the heavy wooden door and pushed. Years of experience of jimmying this very door open on dark, drunken nights came in excellent use here. The door was ajar before the fastest knights caught up. I barged into the dark corridor ahead, having just enough time to see a servant's face turn from smugness to outright panic before I ran up to him and punched him in the gut, noticing as I did so his dark uniform. The treracherous red on black. The more the merrier, right? I plunged my sword into his torso, hearing the crunches and snaps and feeling a dark satisfaction as I took his life.

I dodged through the fighting bodies as more of Morgana's men came thundering past to stem the breach, and ran on, looking for someone I could hold accountable for the inn. My poor, poor inn.

I heard my name called out, and half-turned before succumbing to my furious impatience and continuing on. I listened for pursuit, and distinctly heard a horse's hoofbeats thunder up the corridor towards me. I stopped, spun, jabbed with my sword, and noticed it was Merlin.

He was stunned, pale. I could see him through the wrinkles and creases of old age, his bright blue eyes shining like beacons. He sagged slightly on his horse, and my heart leaped through my chest. Did I hit him? I checked my sword quickly. It was covered in blood. My pulse thundered in my head, and I felt sick.

Merlin sat up straighter, his face smooth. Wait, _had_ I hit him? There was no obvious wound on him, and the blood might have been from the other men I'd killed today. I swallowed, wincing as I remembered what I had done to the servant.

Old Merlin saw reason return to my face. He breathed out in relief.  
"I… I'm…"  
"It's okay. You were fighting. I shouldn't have come so close."  
I winced, my head bent. What the hell was wrong with me? There was a pressure in my head, like a headache, only not painful. I shook my head to clear it, but it was still there. A thought struck me.  
"When we first entered Camelot, you felt something…" I hedged nervously, more to soothe my misgivings than understand something that was beyond me.  
Merlin looked at me thoughtfully.  
"I felt an enchantment."  
I raised my eyebrows, feeling a trickle of sweat forge a path through the grime and blood on my face. The sounds of fighting had stopped. Our soldiers must have moved on to the citadel.  
"What kind?"  
"It's like nothing I've ever felt before. It's incredibly powerful. It must be affecting everyone here."  
"How?" I asked, even though I had an inkling.  
I waited, suspended in suspense, for his answer, but as I watched, his expression changed as he looked over my shoulder.  
"Hold it right there!"

I turned in synchronisation with Merlin's mare, who turned without being told, bumping against her shoulder as we faced an infuriated Arthur.  
"You thought you could escape in here? I know these halls like the back of my hand. There's no way you could escape. My men have the castle surrounded, in case Morgana tries to make a break for it, but I'm sure I could convince them to cut you down if you pop your ugly face through the door."  
"What? How… Do you even—"  
"And _you_. I thought you were a knight of Camelot. Clearly I was mistaken."  
I groaned in frustration.  
"Arthur, you really have no idea—"  
"Sorcerer, lead the way. Since you were so eager to inform your leader of our plans, I'm sure you could show me where she is."

Arthur nudged his horse on, placing it directly behind the edgy mare. Merlin's horse grew nervous and walked on, apparently without warning, judging from Merlin's obvious surprise. I tried to formulate a speech that would convince Arthur of how much of an asshole he was being, but before I could, words that dramatically weren't my own echoed in my head.  
_**Gwaine, leave it. I understand what's happening. **_  
I whipped around, staring at the back of Merlin's white-haired head.  
_**It's the enchantment. That's why you're all acting so strange. I've never seen anything like it. It plants doubt and fear into your souls, it makes you forget yourself. This is much more powerful than I could have imagined. She has help.**_  
Help? Powerful help? The kind that even Merlin couldn't fight? I saw a tiny nod fold his neck, and his creaky shoulders sink lower. If I knew Merlin, I knew that this wouldn't stop him. He would die trying. I had to try and remember that. Were we being controlled? I followed the two horses absent-mindedly, trying to seek out any disturbance in my brain. That pressure, that infuritating headache – was that the curse? Had I been acting different this entire time? Maybe, hopefully, probably, the spell was broken now, because I'd found it.

I hadn't noticed anything unusual, apart from those stubborn doubts, but wasn't that normal, when someone wasn't around to defend themselves? I still couldn't totally believe Merlin was back. How had he managed to survive this long? He had some questions to answer when all this was over.

We – I mean they, while I ran to keep up – trotted through the twisting halls. I got completely and utterly disoriented, losing my bearings after the fourth or fifth seemingly random corner. There was an awkward silence as we all moved forwards, listening to the sound of my breathing getting heavier and hoarser as I grew winded. It was a strange moment to be embarrassed by your panting, but the life-threatening situation didn't mean I couldn't have a shred, however small, of dignity.

We turned into a corridor I recognised: the one outside the throne room. Previously, I'd just followed everyone else when trying to get here. That normally worked. Perhaps, now that we were so close to the end, I would have the time to figure out how the hell to keep track of all these corridors.

We slowed as we realised the doors were flung open. I advanced cautiously, able to sneak up more easily than either heavy-boned horse, albeit my embarrassingly loud breath. I tried to put a lid on it, my throat aching slightly from strain. I poked my head around the corner, and prepared to flinch.

The room was empty. There were papers scattered around the room, and chairs hastily tipped over. In the centre of the hall was a gaping hole.  
I stepped back and motioned the other two forwards, before entering the room again and walking cautiously over to the hole. I heard a clop of hooves beside me.  
"Dug by magic," intoned the creaky old sorcerer. "Morgana has fled."  
The king cursed and his horse stamped its hoof. Then, with almost perfect timing, a beam of sunlight spilt through the grimy windows, lighting the floor and filling the air with brightness, helping along the realisation that was slow in coming. It was over. We'd won Camelot.

We'd won Camelot!

I could hear some cheering in the distance, and honestly, I felt like cheering myself. I was fully aware of the days of pain residing in my various body parts, and my mind was chafing and pining for a beer, which, now that I came to think of it, I hadn't had for a solid week. I haven't been this sober for at least two beers, I mean, years. It was a new experience for me.

Now that I'd thought about it, of course, the longing for beer grew and grew, until I couldn't comprehend how I'd managed to ignore it all this time. Maybe I'll pop along to the inn before anyone noticed me.

Then reality kicked in viciously and I remembered the smouldering hole in the the fabric of the world that was the inn. There _was_ a pub in Camelot, that they called the Rising Sun, but it's now a ruin, an absence of alcohol, and God, I wanted some.

I kicked a loose stone viciously into the gaping crater in the exact centre of the room, and heard it skitter and bounce into the darkness. And bounce. And roll, and stop. I perked up, distracted despite myself.

The other two were stuck in an awkward dance, avoiding each other's gaze and trying to control their horses, who seemed eager to get reacquainted as soon as possible. _Very_ eager. The mare and the stallion circled each other, nuzzling and neighing hungrily. The ludicrousy of the situation was tragic.

Here was the king: an arrogant, high-born fool, distrustful of anything too complicated for his simple mind to understand, full of ignorant hatred for magic, a man who used his sword when he should be stepping back and actually noticing what the hell was going on around him.

Here was the former servant, the best friend of said king, the smartest and kindest man I'd ever known, powerful with good magic and brave beyond words, ready to sacrifice himself for everything he believed in, a man who was constantly belittled, taunted, underestimated and ignored.

And here were the two horny horses, pressing the two uncomfortably close in ridiculously inappropriate circumstances. I would have paid the situation more attention, to record it for later enjoyment, but there was something about that hole there…

I leaned closer, leaned back, cast around, found a discarded, over-polished helmet, and used it to reflect sunlight into the hole. Ah, there we go. The hole was not a hole, but a tunnel. At least, that's what I assumed. It was too deep for me to see clearly, and swallowed the available light before the rays could hit the bottom.

"Guys? I hate to break this up, but I've found something."  
Arthur looked up furiously. His face was flushed with annoyance and embarrassment, which was understandable, seeing as it was his stallion that was really the problem here.

Merlin dismounted and hobbled over to the hole.  
"It's deep," he mentioned, surprised. "This could be a tunnel."  
Arthur directed his unwilling horse to the rim and peered down.  
"This is a security risk. Perhaps we should investigate it."

I rolled my eyes in the direction of Merlin's crooked back, noticing suddenly the old man's yellow pallour. It was repulsive, really, the way his breath rattled, the way he leaned so heavily against his poor mare, the way his slight, unpleasant smell cloyed the air, his filmy eyes, his loose teeth, his disgusting slurping noises… it was really getting to me. Maybe if I gave him a push, it would finally stop. It would be an accident; no one could blame me if it was an accident.

The only witness would be Arthur, and judging from his present opinion, he would back me up. Maybe even help me. As I imagined the old man's head broken open at the bottom of the hole, I felt that same dark, savage satisfaction I had during the battle earlier.

Emrys straightened up and glanced in my direction, probably to say something like, 'Come and carry me, I'm far too weak to walk on my own.' I gritted my teeth and flexed my arms. One good shove would do it. My eyes met with Arthur's, and I saw the same blankness reflected in his expression. His feet nudged ever so slightly at the horse's sweating flanks, and the horse started to move forwards, aiming for Emrys' back.

Emrys' eyes opened wide. His expression was abruptly terrified, frozen like a rabbit caught in a jousting rally. I glared with disgust at the withered, repulsive old creep he was, searching his face for something to take pity in. No, why was I doing that? I had to kill him, _now_, put an end to this stupid running around.

The sorcerer took a deep, trembling breath and closed his eyes in concentration. I moved forward dreamily, almost in slow-motion, hands outstretched, feeling almost like a _sombi_ from legend. There was a part of me rising, slowing me down further, but a large, curiously pleasant greyness squashed it down.

Then came a huge, rumbling roar, and a shadow fell across the window, plunging the room into sombre colours. I gasped like I had just fallen into an ice-cold waterfall, and looked into Merlin's petrified eyes. Dear _God_, what the crap was going on? What… what had just happened? Oh my god, this was bad. This was much worse than I'd imagined.

There came a familiar deep voice.  
"Make haste, young warlock. The curse grows stronger. Soon, it will be impossible to stop them."  
Merlin nodded, staring intently at the large, golden eye visible through the glass.  
"It builds swiftly. For now, they are themselves, but they won't remain so for much longer. Morgana has cast a powerful spell on them."  
I twigged that it was talking about us. I glanced across at Arthur, who was wearing an expression of deep shock.

Merlin turned around as the dragon disappeared, searching my face for something. Then he took a dark green bottle out of a deep pocket, uncorked it and sipped from it. I waited nervously for him to turn into a monster and punish us for what we'd done, and squeezed my eyes shut.

A moment later, young, familiar Merlin was standing before us, swamped in moth-eaten old robes. I blinked in shock, and blinked again when he spoke to me.  
"We've got to find Morgana quickly, and lift the curse. It's affecting everyone, even the subjects. This was her back-up plan all along."  
"What do you mean?" asked the king quietly.  
"Even if Morgana is defeated and the kingdom is yours once more, the people will fear you and revolt. Unless the spell is broken, it will get worse."

Arthur nodded once, pale and dazed. I edged away from Merlin, holding my arms tightly across my chest. I dropped the sword at some point, but I was too hazy to notice. How close had I come to killing my only friend? My god, I couldn't be anywhere near him! I would murder him!

I was a danger to him, and, consequently, to all of them, to everyone. I had to stay away. Then horror crashed over me again and I recoiled as I replayed the plans I had considered a few moments ago. I panted heavily, feeling light-headed. Merlin was watching me with concern.

"No, Gwaine, it's all right. You're not in your right mind. I don't blame you."  
I didn't respond, edging closer to the door. I imagined my hands covered in Merlin's blood, and shrank further away. Why didn't he understand? I _couldn't be near him_. I could easily sneak up on him, slash his spine, stab his skull, slit his throat. Oh god, it was happening again!  
"Gwaine. Gwaine!"  
I looked at him, trying to communicate what I couldn't say. He approached, ignoring my protests, kneeling in front of me, fixing me with a serious stare.  
"Gwaine. You're the only one I can trust with this. Please."  
I shook my head wordlessly. It was too dangerous. I had to leave.  
He leaned in further and whispered.  
"It attacks weak minds, Gwaine. You have to be strong. Put up a defence. It'll get through too easily."  
I froze. Maybe it wasn't over. Perhaps I could fight it. No, I couldn't trust myself again. It was so easy to think of ways to kill the skinny lad in front of me.  
"Arthur has it too. Gwaine, I need you to help me if he turns again. I can't watch my back from all angles."

Oh god. I hadn't thought of that. An image arrived, unbidden, of the servant in a dark cave, fighting off shadows with fiery bursts, the flames glowing off Arthur's red eyes as he drew nearer, sword glinting behind Merlin. I had to protect him, and protect myself. Merlin needed me. But could I do it?

I pushed myself upright, taking courage from Merlin's beam of relief. I had to try. And if I failed… I picked up my sword and peeled back my sleeve, where an artery pulsed visibly. I had to be prepared.

Arthur nodded down the hole, not meeting any of our gazes, seeming almost… what? Frightened? Panicked? I kept my eye on him as he started sliding down the steep slope. Then I listened as Merlin whispered in the ear of his loyal mare, who turned and trotted out of the open doors, closely followed by Arthur's stallion, who was walking awkwardly.

Right then. Here we go. I could only hope we defeated Morgana before we defeated Merlin.


	6. The Dark Witch And The Darker Tunnel

We walked on in silence, Merlin leading with his fistful of flames. In a way, it was almost companionable, sharing the unspoken weight of what was ahead. Just like old times. It was the three of us, off on just another little adventure. I stretched my aching neck and checked myself for major injuries.

My ankle was being whiny, and my breathing was still a bit raggedy, but there was nothing that would really slow me down in the heat of the moment. And what would this moment be? A room full of burly, drunken men? I could deal with those, with Arthur's help. Come to think of it, so could Merlin. Morgana probably wouldn't be all that difficult; there were three of us and only one of her, and I trusted Merlin's strength. Temporarily. I narrowed my eyes. I needed to keep my thoughts in check. But there was no real way to defend yourself when the problem was in your own head, was there? This tunnel was too long. There was nothing interesting enough to distract me from the thoughts I really didn't want to have.

My mind drifted to other things. There was still this mysterious help Morgana had. Whatever it was had Merlin anxious. I hoped it wouldn't be too horrible, and if it was, I could but hope it wouldn't be painful. I ran through some rusty old training tactics my father had taught me, the ones I hadn't used in years, and cleaned my sword on the edge of my chain mail. Although, in the end, this would probably be some kind of elaborate joke Merlin had pulled. He really should know when to stop, he could really be stupid sometimes. There was a chance he was leading us into the hovel he had been squatting in for weeks. Trust him.

The tunnel narrowed and narrowed, the walls becoming rougher and sharper, as if someone had tired of making it more presentable and concentrated more on speed.

Then Merlin stopped dead, an arm out, the fire flickering. I froze at the same time as Arthur, and held my breath.  
There was absolute silence. I became aware of how loud we must have been, trampling around, blaring our presence to the world. My heartbeat thundered, and I fought to restrain my breath, which was wheezing away again. The wait was agony.

The darkness was pressing down more fully. I could tell that up ahead was a cave of some kind, and, as I watched, a part of it seemed to move, to slither. I shuddered. Then a faint glow seemed to appear, and retreat out of sight.

"Then there were three."  
I jumped violently as Morgana's voice sounded, echoing around the cave. The rough accent was almost gone, her voice crafted into sharper, colder tones. She materialised directly in front of Merlin, almost nose-to-nose. I gasped, and Arthur drew his sword. Merlin didn't react.

"Oh, how cute. You have magic."  
"Morgana."  
"Did you learn it so you could protect your precious king? That didn't work out too well, did it?"  
"Morgana, stop this."  
"I should have killed you when I had the chance. Do you have any idea how many times I could have squashed you like a bug? Like an ant?"  
"Well why didn't you?"  
"How could a servant be a threat to the High Priestess of the Old Religion?"  
Merlin grinned. His face was pale, his eyes dark, his lips stretched over his teeth, exposing his canines. His leer chilled me, and I drew back, unable to recognise him. He smirked in Morgana's face, and she stepped back, looking uncertain.

"What?" she said, put off. Then her confidence returned.  
"No matter. I'll just kill you first."  
Merlin toppled abruptly and slid several feet across the floor, all source of light going out. I stared in horror, trying to figure out what had happened to him, before I made out Arthur charging towards Morgana, brandishing his sword. Before I could do the same, the king was whipped off his feet and smashed further back into the tunnel, landing too hard. I turned to face her, my knees knocking together.

"I honestly can't believe you've managed to survive this long," continued Morgana, apparently uninterested in me, stalking over to where Merlin lay in the cave. "You're just a useless servant. Just a servant."

I could hear a groaning coming from the darkness behind me. Arthur was alive, at least. She didn't seem to have registered me. I could hurt her. Now, while she was busy. I could put an end to all of this. I took advantage of the shadows to creep closer to Morgana, sword poised and ready. No need for any pleasantries; straight-up attack was called for. A plunge at her spine, a twist… and she would be powerless. Maybe a slash at her eyes.

She turned to face me. I was too close now for her to stop me. She just watched me, shock registering on her face as I thrust forwards with the sword. My gaze slid over to Merlin, just lying there, helpless. I felt an anger rising. After all this expectation and tension, after all the airs and graces he had put on, the only defence he was going to put up was this? This wasn't even a defence! How was he going to '_save us all_' if he couldn't even stand up right? D'you know, if he had just _stayed at home_, none of this would have _happened_! All the crap I'd been through, it was all his fault, when you get right down to it!

That irrational urge to hit at something. I felt it strongly. I had always had temper issues. When I was a teenager, my sister would often run in terror when I was having one of those bad days. Not that I'd hit her, often, but I could very easily lash out at everything around me. It was a stupid impulse, an effort to slow things down, gain some control, express myself, but one that hadn't left me. That familiar reaction twitched my arms, and I lashed out at Merlin, gently. He was still my friend, sort of, however many times he'd nearly killed me. I wasn't going to seriously hurt him, I just wanted him to know I was angry. That done, earning me a satisfying yell, I focused on Morgana, tugging the sword out of his side, rising it to strike…

_Tugging the sword out of his side._ I had just _tugged the sword out of his side_. He was curled in on himself, moaning, a dark stain spreading over his tunic, pooling on the ground… I dropped the sword, nauseous, breathing heavily, the world spinning. I had just… oh god. I fell on my knees and emptied my stomach. My mind was blank; I couldn't comprehend what was happening around me. I heard a voice.  
"Perfect. Now that that's been settled, shall we proceed?"

Merlin only coughed rattlingly.  
"Bit gloomy in here. Some lights?"  
Torches flared into life along the walls. I was vaguely aware of arches, a huge door at the end of the room, a tall, lumpy pole standing on the other side. This was a hall of some sort, but nowhere I recognised. I focused on my breathing, trying to steady it so I could think. Merlin was hit – oh god – perhaps fatally. I was weak, my legs were jelly. I wouldn't be able to do much. Maybe Arthur… It was difficult to think over the clear, carrying voice that continued mocking the weakened warlock.

"So where did you learn your magic, boy? Did Gaius teach it to you? I'll be sure to remind him of his failure when I set him alight. He's had experience with flames, has Gaius."

Merlin twisted around suddenly, his arm out, yelling an incantation, but Morgana stopped him short with a wave. She continued pacing.  
"He has secrets, your old friend. He knows about everything. He's known about everything for years."  
Merlin yelled again, his eyes blazing, but a dark smoke pinched out his weak blaze. He lay back with a grunt, pain twisting his emotions.

"I have a theory about him. I think he's in cahoots with Emrys."  
Merlin stiffened, but Morgana didn't seem to notice.  
"Emrys is said to be my doom. Hah! As if an old man could stop me now. If he were so powerful, why hasn't he done anything yet? Where has he been?"  
The man on the floor let out a whimper, curling further. I stood up shakily, and collapsed again.

Morgana rounded on Merlin suddenly, stopping in the dead centre of the hall.  
"You wouldn't know about Emrys, would you, Merlin? You did live with Gaius, after all."  
The sorcerer shook his head.

"No, I… I don't know an Emrys. I—"  
"Are you sure? Because I could find out."  
She drew a silver dagger from a belt at her waist and pointed it at Merlin's face. I crawled closer, I needed to stop her, needed to—  
"Wouldn't want you to be keeping secrets now, would we?"  
She held the dagger in an unshaking hand, bringing it closer, closer. I tried to claw at her back, but an unseen hand slammed me against the wall.

Then the knife inched forward another bit and grazed Merlin's eyelid. I heard the man scrabble and writhe, but the blade kept going until it found his eyeball and jabbed, scoring the surface and sickeningly drawing blood. Merlin's scream echoed off the walls, his back arching, his legs kicking in revulsion. Morgana leaned back then pressed forwards again, a horrible smile twisting her mouth. The witch _enjoyed_ this.

With a huge blast of light, Morgana was swiftly knocked back off her feet, the light filling up the whole room in a momentary flash. I tried to blink away the after-image so I could see what was going on. I saw Merlin struggle to sit up, his face set, his teeth biting deep into his lips in pain, his entire left side dripping with blood. Morgana crouched like a cat in a corner, standing up lithely and marching back towards us, her chin high.

"Tut tut, Merlin, we shouldn't be hasty. There's a lot more to come before I kill you."  
Merlin glared defiantly, clenching his fists. He glanced at me in a fraction of a second, but that was enough. I backed away from the two of them slowly, silently, back to the entrance to the tunnel. Arthur was still back there, unhurt. Maybe he could be convinced to come back.

Although, I reflected bitterly, there was no reason for him to stick around. Two powerful sorcerers doing battle, likely to kill each other, with a treacherous knight trying to protect one of them… Arthur probably didn't even make the distinction between who was an enemy and who wasn't. I ducked into the darkness of the rocky tunnel, eyes wide, trying to spot movement. Was that a glint of sword? Was he still here then?

"Arthur?" I whispered. I approached, and jumped violently when a blade pressed into the side of my neck. I spun around and came face to face with a dishevelled king, his hair grimy and stuck up in dozens of tufts, as if he had been pulling it. His person showed much the same thing; lips bleeding from being bitten, palms covered in red welts from his hands being clenched too tight, breathing ragged and eyes red. He was panicked, indecisive, terrified.

"I don't know…" he started. Beyond him I could hear more threats and taunts. "I don't know what to do. Merlin was a friend…right? And Morgana wasn't – isn't – wasn't. I don't know."  
"It's the spell," I muttered, internally thanking the gods he wasn't too far gone. "It's making you doubt everything."

The internal struggle in his mind was clear. I warned myself not to push him, but behind me Merlin gave another strangled yell. I gritted my teeth, itching to pull Arthur back into the fight, yet fearing to push him to a disastrously wrong decision. I waited for a minute with bated breath, then, as Arthur came to a decision, I nodded towards Merlin.  
"Come on."

He gripped his sword tight and crept cautiously to the entrance of the room. I relaxed my tensed shoulders in relief, and followed him. We surveyed the room. Merlin was battling off dozens of what appeared to be giant, smoky bats. Morgana was standing motionless, a center of stillness in the whirlwind of movement. Her face was pinched, her chin was down and her eyes were closed. She looked almost child-like, innocent… to be honest, I'd never really understood what was so _bad_ about her, aside from all the betrayal.

As I watched, she seemed to swell up and explode with power. A black gas streamed from her eyes, her nose, her mouth. It oozed out of her hair and the folds of her dress. The swarm grew and grew, and a metallic buzzing grew stronger. She opened her eyes and the swarm twisted, flipped and knifed into Merlin at incomprehensible speeds. He was picked up and flung so violently into the wall that the plaster crumbled and the bricks jumped out. He stopped moving.

I laughed uproariously, and at my side I could hear Arthur laugh with me. It was pitiful! How could _Mer_lin even _begin_ to compare with Morgana? He was so weak! It was ridiculous, really.

Morgana turned to look at us. Her beautiful face was lit up in triumph, and her beautiful eyes darted between the two of us.  
"Come forward," she said in her beautiful voice.  
She obviously wanted to thank me, maybe with a promotion? How about a proposal? I stepped forwards confidently.

And bumped shoulders with Arthur. That moron was grinning like he'd just won the sweepstake. God, I'd never really noticed it before, but his features, put together like that, made him look really stupid. Obviously Ygraine's part of the bargain, the old hag. What did they say about blonds? And, I ask you, how is it fair that a simpleton gets _my_ prize?

I drew my sword the same instant he drew his. Oh, he was going to die. There were no two ways about it. I'd been meaning to do this for _ages_. He had a battle coming.

The queen Morgana turned away from us and went to the door. I landed my first blow, and was stunned when Arthur whipped around and slashed my shin. The _bastard_! I really got into it then, slicing his arm, ripping his thumb, managing a vicious blow to the head with my hilt; but the injuries were just as severe on my side. I gasped as my thigh was opened to the bone and my throat was battered. I could barely see, my eyes were watering, my leg was slick with blood, my head was reeling, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Arthur bringing down his sword over me for the final time.

A huge smack of wind buffeted the sword away from its bed in my skull. Arthur spun around and staggered, letting out a yell of outrage. Merlin, the idiot, was still alive; and looked desperate. His entire side was dripping and his breaths were shallow and rattly. As the queen raised her hand to pinch the life out of him once and for all, Merlin snapped a hand out and fired a rush of molten metal at that uneven pole in the corner of the room, that seemed to be crackling and warping the air around it. Morgana screamed, but the wood was splintering and blackening, disintegrated in a matter of seconds. The pole thudded to the ground.

A shockwave went through my brain. A bright light filled my vision. I couldn't feel a thing, a wretched thing. All I could hear was a screaming, a wailing shriek that rose and rose. Slowly, horribly slowly, my eyes came back and filled in the blanks. I had fallen; my sword was pressing into my side, drawing blood. I could make out Arthur, collapsed on his back in the entrance to the tunnel, his hand covered in blood. The room was shaking; Morgana was screaming horribly, her eyes wide, her face blotchy.

I felt so lightheaded. Like I could faint any second. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off my head. I was nauseous. Where was Merlin? Was he okay? No, he looked bad.

The walls shook more violently. The ceiling had a huge crack in it, and as I watched, lumps of brick and what must have been the rock the room was built from came thudding down. The floor jumped and cracked, and still Morgana kept screaming. Arthur lifted his head, and on his face dawned a look of sheer horror and confusion.

"_Merlin_!" he yelled, a second before half the room collapsed, burying the entrance to the tunnel behind a mountain of dark stone. The thunder drowned out the screeches, and the walls steadied. I staggered towards the mountain of rubble, then Merlin.

He was panicking; he could barely move anymore, curled in on himself, panting shallowly like a dog, his face contorted with pain, blood leaking from his nose and mouth. Had I done that to him? I couldn't remember. Had I hurt him? Oh god, I couldn't remember.

"_NO_!" yelled Morgana, slamming Merlin down on the floor. He sat up again and spat out some blood.  
"You've lost your one true weapon, Morgana," he rasped, breaking into a coughing fit that shook his body like a rag. "You can't control their minds anymore. They're free."

She whipped around to face him, her knotted hair slapping her neck, her eyes shining.  
"Oh, _free_, are they?"  
She faced me, and I felt a horrible stretching as she slowly lifted me into the air. I found myself whispering a quick prayer to the Triple Goddess. This was my end, then.

Snakes slithered out of the holes in the floor and started winding themselves up my legs. I stiffened in fear as they wrapped around me, suffocatingly tight. They solidified, and became more rope than animal. Then I was drifted closer to the witch until I could see into her eyes, and knew when the next attack was coming.

Her eyes glowed and my jaw slit open, from the mouth right down to the throat, gushing blood like a tap, filling me with a pain so vicious that my head whipped back and a scream exploded out of me. Another glare, another slash, this time across my chest down to my stomach. I yelled in agony, bleeding blisters erupting on the sides of the cut. My head dropped, and I retched when I caught a glimpse of my insides gleaming through the gore.

"Stop! _Stop_!" came Merlin's ragged voice from a long way away. "This doesn't have to… he shouldn't…"  
His words were drowned out by another scream coming from me. I could barely hear anything. What was in front of me didn't matter. There was only the pain, there would only ever be pain, there had only ever been pain. Everything was fading, I was alone in my head. Nothing could hurt me now.

* * *

**A/N:**** I was in a really bad mood, okay! Almost finished.**


	7. I Need A Beer

The pressure stopped. I was so, so weak. I could feel the heat leak out of my body. The cold was creeping up on me. I had maybe minutes.  
I saw movement from the edge of my vision. There was Merlin, stumbling like a drunk to the center of the room, clutching his left side. He looked worse than I'd ever seen. His eye was still bleeding. He was hanging on by his fingertips. We were going to die in this hole. Morgana had killed us.

She spat, her hair wild, her shoulders sagging.  
"There's no point in fighting, Merlin, dear. You can feel it; you're dying."  
"I can still stop you," came the weak reply. He swayed, and my heart leapt with worry. Now there was no doubt in my mind who I would die to protect. Who I _was_ dying to protect, for all the good it was doing.

"Ha! You have no idea how powerful I am, boy! I command forces you can't even imagine!"  
"Like what?" I heard before Merlin was interrupted by a cough that brought up parts of his lungs into his hands, and pushed him to his knees. "Like what?" he said again, more forcefully, a bit of the old fire in his eyes, completely ignoring the blood and gunk in his hands.

Morgana seemed to find it amusing. She turned majestically and motioned behind her to the door.  
"Wouldn't want to disappoint my guests, now, would I? It wouldn't hurt to have a little peek at the devastation I'm going to cause when you're dead. Brace yourselves, now."

She turned and stood in the doorway. I let my head tip forward, unable to keep it up any longer. I could feel myself getting colder as the vital warmth of life gathered in a puddle at my feet, and the pain, the pain was unimaginable. I could very well just let go, let the blanket of oblivion be drawn over me.

But I had to keep trying. I had to keep fighting, for Merlin. I tried to raise my head again – and found I couldn't. I couldn't! I did a quick motor check. None of my muscles worked! I couldn't move. I – I couldn't move.

Death_ wasn't supposed to be like this_. I was supposed to die fighting, overcome with arrows, floored in insurmountable circumstances – not strung up like a chicken, patiently waiting for the grisly end.

But I couldn't really care enough. I was – oh god – I was so weak. I just couldn't move. I couldn't fight, and I couldn't care that I couldn't fight. I could hear a rumble coming closer, crashing towards us, making the floor shiver. I could see Morgana's shadow on the ground, turning back towards us, then stepping aside. I met Merlin's eyes, those eyes that conveyed every emotion too clearly and hid them too well, those eyes that even now, even when so much had gone wrong, looked guilty, eyes that right now glowed with resignation and wretchedness. That was the thing that drove it home; there was no hope.

The rumbling reached a crescendo, and I started breathing more heavily. Any second now. Any second. The creature rounded the corner.

Merlin sat up, his spine stiff, his eyes wide, his expression changing instantly from shock to confusion to fear to relief, relief, relief. He was drenched in relief, radiating it so powerfully that even Morgana felt it and relaxed. What was this – what? Hope leapt like a flame, and I strained my utmost to move my head up to see whatever the hell it was.

A blob. Pale. Grey? White? A long neck, fierce red eyes, wings… wings? A dragon? My heart plummeted, and I sank back down as strong memories of the Great Dragon ran through my head. The dragon snapped its head in my direction, its nostrils flaring. It was a trick, nothing but a cruel trick. We were going to die in this pit. I cringed away from it, feeling the rankness of its breath like an acid over my freezing skin. It warmed me sickeningly.

The dragon's pale snout butted into my head. The creature growled, and I shook. Gut-wrenching terror roared through my veins, and I bucked away from its sour smell. The adrenaline gave me strength, and I felt stronger than I had any right to be. My vision went fuzzy again and started to pitch and roil. Renewed, vicious pain twisted and ripped through me, and I could feel myself sinking into oblivion. No, I had to…had to…

The one thing left visible to me was Merlin's face. My heart beat slowed as I saw the utter lack of fear on his face. He knew what he was doing. In fact, why wasn't he…  
_Dragon_. Jesus Christ, this was a _dragon_. A fricking _dragon_.

One that Merlin could control.

Were we – could we be? – saved? I didn't dare hope . Dragon's eyes weren't meant to be glowing red. The dragon was under Morgana's power.

"Do you like him? I found him wandering in the woods. He's a tricky one. Has two completely different sides to him. Giving one of them strength is like setting fire to a village; you stand back and watch people die."

Merlin's face froze and settled into a mask of cold, dead hatred. The dragon had been changed into something else.  
The warlock leaned forward.  
"Aithusa," he muttered. "Aithusa, listen to me."

"Don't even bother, Merlin. The thing can barely talk."  
"Do you know me? Do you remember me?"  
Morgana stalked forwards, pushing past the dragon, stopping with her nose inches away from Merlin's.

"So you've seen this dragon before?"  
Her tone changed as she straightened and started pacing around the room.  
"Maybe you saw it once and thought it liked you. Maybe you thought it was like a _dog_, to be trained and mastered. I hate to break this to you, Merlin, but this dragon doesn't remember anything. It thinks it was born like this. It lives in a constant state of anger and fear. It will serve me until it _dies_."

Merlin slowly stood up, still facing Aithusa. His knees cracked and wobbled as his body struggled to cope. The blood was still pouring off him, but his face had more colour than before. Or did it? Fear was changing the way I saw things. Colours were more vivid, thoughts were clearer, expressions were stronger.  
Morgana regarded him unconcernedly.

"I don't think you really understand your position, Merlin. There is _nothing_ you can do. Well, maybe you can sit back down, and make this easier on yourself."

Merlin obstinately straightened, his fists clenched. Morgana sighed.  
"Sit _down,_ Merlin," she drawled, flicking a hand as her eyes flashed gold.

Merlin held out a hand and the beam of light just…stopped. It froze there, in mid-air, gleaming coldly. "Morgana," started Merlin, ignoring her sudden and obvious fear. He waved an arm and the air rippled outwards, pushing towards her and surrounding her. She whimpered, her eyes wide and glistening as she struggled to breathe.

"You took a dragon, a defenceless, innocent dragon," he emphasized the words by shaping the air into a wall and trapping the witch in an invisible box. "You took him, enchanted him, _tortured him_, gave him _hell_. But there's one thing you didn't think about, Morgana," he said, coming closer to her, his eyes dementedly bright through the sheen of sweat. I saw a shape move behind him, away from me, but my body betrayed me, weakening suddenly, drastically, making my eyes roll back in my skull and my breathing hitch.

"How could you have known that the great –"  
The breath was slammed out of him as a huge claw struck the side of his head with crushing force. He toppled instantly, crashing into the ground, blood already staining his face.  
"No!" I shouted helplessly, straining forwards, tearing the skin on my wrists against the ropes. _No, we were so close. Oh god, no._

Merlin wasn't moving. After all we had been through, all the pain and terror and false hope, he had been killed by the creature he was meant to control. I hoped it'd be quick, my death. All the little things that might have happened, all the ways we could have survived this one, had been torn down and trampled into the dust. Arthur could go kill himself.

Morgana rose, panting hoarsely as she tried to regain her strength. She was visibly shaken, her eyes wide and her skin pale. She hadn't expected this, for all her oh-so-fancy divining magic. She supported herself against the white dragon, recoiling in a way that made it all too clear she was afraid of it. So she wasn't certain of her power over it. Dammit, it was pure torture to find all this out now. To know what could have happened.

Morgana recovered. She glared at Merlin's body, clearly not trusting him to be dead. At that moment, he twitched. His whole body jerked slightly, as if he'd got a shock. The dragon growled and advanced menacingly, savagery spelled in every inch of its body. And I was stuck here, unable to escape watching the gruesome scene that was to come.

The creature reached Merlin and sniffed him. It apparently smelled _something_, because it stood back and nodded at Morgana. It was curiously unsettling, watching a fairy tale monster nod meaningfully at someone. But what had it meant?

Morgana hissed, then scrutinised the collapsed servant.  
"Burn him," she commanded firmly, all trace of mocking gone.  
The dragon stepped forwards once more. The ominous sound of huge lungs working filled the silent room. Then a gigantic torrent of green, crackling flames poured out of its mouth, glowing sickly, burning with a horrible heat, aimed singularly at Merlin's pale face.

A hand snapped out and cleaved the fire in two. Before anyone could react, Merlin staggered upright, face ashen, eyes wide and panicking. Not even taking the time to catch his breath, he began speaking in a hoarse, deep throaty voice, breaking off occasionally to cough. I eventually realized it was the same speech he had used when calling the Great Dragon in the clearing.

The white dragon's head snapped around and the creature stared intently at the chanting warlock. The dragon-speak gradually increased in volume and power until other sounds were drowned out and the very air pulsated with pressure. Merlin's forehead crumpled and his face grew redder as he pushed harder, trying to break through Morgana's spell.

I saw Morgana scream something, but no sound could make it through the forceful waves pulsing from the warlock. She waved her hand, her eyes flashing, but Merlin didn't even look in her direction before stopping it dead. He was face-to-face with the dragon, chanting furiously, and as I watched, the dragon's eyes seemed to lighten. Where they were once scarlet, they were now a vague orange, and still getting lighter.

I strained against the bonds, trying uselessly to ignore the pain I felt all over. Right now, when it seemed we were about to win, was when the worst things normally happened. Although, looking at my slashed skin and Merlin's gaping injury, things couldn't get much worse than this.

The chanting was overpowering. I couldn't concentrate on anything, the sound was drilling into my skull. I could hear Merlin's voice steadily getting weaker, the coughing fits more frequent, but Aithusa's eyes were now entirely yellow. The dragon was shaking all over, clearly terrified, and it cringed into the ground. Finally, oh god finally, the bellowing stopped, and the dragon was still. In the silence that followed that insane mantra, the dragon sank down and unmistakably bowed.

Merlin grinned triumphantly, then staggered backwards and leaned heavily against the wall. The dragon – Aithusa – followed him, sniffing at him curiously. Morgana stared at them, helpless, scared, completely confused.

"Wha – How? That's impossible!"  
"And yet," retorted Merlin, having caught his breath, "and yet it just happened. How, you ask? Well, let me—"  
He broke off and doubled over, his knees eventually giving in as he spluttered blood into his hand, his body contorting horribly as more coughing cracked through his lungs. Morgana's eyes glinted hopefully, and she edged forward, starting to chip away at her restraints.

Merlin straightened and continued, his voice ragged.  
"Let me tell you a story. There was once a Dragonlord, living peacefully in his home. He was a good man and had no enemies. He was happy – that is, until a tyrant of a king tricked him into betraying himself and his kin, and forced him to live a cursed life, as the last of his kind, hated for what he was born with, the threat of execution breathing down his neck at every turn.

"He ran, but the king's soldiers followed him. He sought refuge in another kingdom, yet still the king would not let him go. The Dragonlord was forced to leave his little family and hide in a cave. He lived in a constant state of fear, always waiting for the day the soldiers would find him again. He shunned company, he spoke to no one; he didn't want to endanger anyone ever again."

Merlin was getting angrier; his face grew colder as he started pacing back and forth. I watched him dizzily. Where was he going with this?

"The Dragonlord was killed," intoned Merlin, his face blank. There was a loaded pause before he resumed. "But the family he had left behind lived on. The son, born with the power of magic, grew up with his mother. When his gift was impossible to keep secret, he moved to Camelot, in the hopes of learning how to control it."

Behind him, Morgana's eyes grew wider as she understood what was coming.

"The boy got a job in the palace, manservant to the Crown Prince."  
Morgana moaned, her head sagging.

"His name? Merlin."  
The warlock bowed deeply, his tone mocking.  
"How about that? To think, you would have finally succeeded, finally taken everything you've ever wanted… only to be foiled by illegitimate lineage. Huh. Seems kinda ironic, doesn't it?"

Morgana spat a clump of hair out of her mouth, stamping her foot angrily.  
"_Shut up_! You know _nothing_! You're still nothing but a weak, pathetic, stupid little—"  
Merlin looked at her unfathomably, and lifted an arm. His intentions were clear in his eyes. Now, looking at Morgana, struggling against thin air, face tear-streaked, shouting obscenities as she struggled against the inevitable… it was pitiful. Contemptible.

Merlin pushed at the air for the last time, and it shimmered as the witch finally fell silent. Her head rolled forwards, and she sagged onto the floor and was still.

Without even leaving time for us to share in a meaningful silence as the truth finally sank in, Merlin staggered backwards and toppled against the wall, prompting the white dragon to pad towards him, its long neck straining as it nuzzled worriedly against his face.

I strained against those damn ropes as I struggled to make out his face. Was he breathing? Oh god, my _wrists_. They were bleeding in earnest now, a single pro of which was that my hands started to slide free as the blood loosened them. I strained harder, wincing as the rope cut into my skin at an angle. I couldn't, I just couldn't cope with more agony.

Aithusa nudged Merlin's chalk-white face. When he didn't respond, it nudged harder. I could see it get worried, as its movements became stronger and faster. It dropped out its tongue and gave Merlin a broad lick, from his chin right up to his forehead.

Merlin spluttered awake. I sighed in relief, my bonds digging deeper into me as I relaxed. Merlin patted Aithusa's snout and squinted at me. The ropes fell away suddenly, and I dropped onto my aching feet, groaning from the impact. Merlin heard that – Merlin never missed anything – and nodded in my direction.

"Go to him. Heal him."  
Aithusa stalked up to me, sniffing disdainfully. It exhaled slowly, and I felt a release, a wonderful release from the scalding pain in my cuts. Warmth started running through me again, and I could see clearer, hear better. I lifted my head and grinned dazedly at Merlin.

"You did it, mate."  
His face brightened suddenly, instantaneously, as he cracked a smile that could have made the sun shine brighter. He leaned back, his breath heaving out, as the weight of whatever he was carrying left him. He laughed, a breathy, exhausted laugh, and I joined him. It was done. Morgana was finally dead. We were safe. The attack had stopped, the city was recaptured. And, my _god_, did I need a beer.

**A/N:**** I think that was the last chapter. Sorry it took so long. Might make an epilogue. Thanks for the reviews!**


	8. Epilogue: I Get A Beer

**A/N****: Oh. Well, here's the epilogue. **

I viewed the world from the castle window. The wall across the square was being repainted; they'd chosen a horrible peach colour that glowed orange in the sunshine. I could see Leon and Elyan walking around with a long piece of paper – the ever-growing list of the missing or dead – and Percival was using his bulk to keep an angry shopkeeper calm. The poor servingboy I chatted with occasionally was out there too, dragging a body covered in a sheet over to the wagon piled high with others.

I stared sadly into the alley where the Rising Sun was – _was_ – located, once upon a time. Thank god the cook was on… such friendly terms with me, because otherwise I would have just up and left in my quest for beer. I wondered what Arthur's reaction would be like when he realized how much alcohol was missing from the royal larder.

Unfortunately – for me, at least – life went on. The human brain couldn't stop moving, and as a result, some people were still committing crimes in the city, as if the greatest tragedy in the history of Camelot hadn't happened. The knights weren't given time to recover, but were expected to keep marching on.

I sighed, picking up my beer and heading to the meeting the royal prat had called. I should have known the peace would be interrupted.

"A report came in of a violent thief in the next village. Apparently he stole the family's rations and beat their son unconscious two days ago. He's still out there somewhere. I propose we head out immediately, see if we can't find him before he gets too far away."

Murmured agreement from the gathered knights. Arthur looked up, his face as tired as I've ever seen it. He looked at one person in particular, waiting for their silent nod of assent before standing up and walking over to the door. We all rather grudgingly got up and went with him to the stables.

Arthur still felt awful for what had happened, and Merlin hadn't yet totally forgiven him. But, as I watched Merlin firmly place his horse before Arthur's, and Arthur failing ridiculously at trying to take the lead, things were getting better.


End file.
